


Asked You First

by Cesare, helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Developing Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 260,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU to the Bound and Determined series: After being separated from each other when they were in high school, Charles finally tracks Erik down and confronts him.  The fact that the confrontation doesn't go well doesn't change the way they feel about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rocky Start (1/9) - 2008.06-2008.08

**Author's Note:**

> This story diverges from [Unbound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/286147) after chapter 42, and contains references to abuse and noncon in Erik's past.

**June 27, 2008**

Erik wakes up and grabs for his phone, still groggy. He has voice mail. That's fairly unusual; the only people who have this number are Jason, Jason's mother Pat, and Helix.

The first message turns out to be from Helix. "Erik, this is Brian at Helix. Everything okay? You didn't show up for the Thursday afternoon tutoring session, we just wanted to check in with you."

That's... strange. Today is Thursday. Erik frowns and thumbs at his phone, moving on to the next message.

The second message is from Jason. "Erik! Listen, my flight's getting in at seven tomorrow. Fucking redeyes. Can't wait to see you." Right, Erik knew that. Jason was getting in... wait, _tomorrow?_ Jason wasn't supposed to be getting in until Friday.

Next message. "Erik, hey, this is Brian again. Nobody's been able to get in touch with you, everything all right? Give me a call back when you get this."

And the fourth is Jason again. "Way to sleep through my arrival, bro. I'm getting a cab. See you soon."

Erik clears all the voice mail and looks down at his phone display. June 27th. Okay. June 27th, it's Thursday...

No. No, wait, Thursday was June twenty- _sixth._ June 27th, that's _Friday..._

Just as he's thinking it, the door rattles, and a bunch of blaring trumpets announce Jason's arrival. Erik groans and falls back into bed, covering his head with a pillow. A few seconds later, Jason thumps onto the bed, reaching out and shaking Erik's knee. "Good, you're not dead," he says-- Erik pries the pillow off his face to see if Jason's kidding. It looks like he's mostly joking. "What happened to you?"

"I slept," Erik says, and then he blinks up at Jason, one hand scrambling back to reach for his joining spot. "Oh, God. Oh, my God, Jason. I _slept."_

His joining spot doesn't hurt anymore, and he holds onto Jason, shaking as Jason makes the phone call to Sebastian's B2C business line. He looks at Erik with grim satisfaction.

"Congratulations," Jason says, hugging Erik close. "You're a widower."

* * *

**June 28, 2008**

Charles takes a double dose of Psilavon, rubbing at his temples once he's drained his water glass. His headaches have been terrible these past few days; it's as though everyone in the world is louder somehow. They've been nicer, too, which helps, especially in the wake of his ugly breakup with Amelia-- well, the breakup itself, not so ugly, but the days before, God. Charles was willing to take any little piece of good news he could get, but at the moment the headache from all those mental voices is so relentless, he thinks he might be sick.

At least it's Saturday. He doesn't have anywhere to go today, so he shuffles back to bed, climbing in and burying his face in a nice cool spot on his pillow. This has not been his best summer ever. Not his worst, either, but he's very much looking forward to fall. A few months, and maybe people's minds will be down to their usual quiet roar; a few months and he'll be over the loss of his relationship with Amelia. Maybe he'll even be able to look at the way it ended and chalk it up to her missing her bondmate, and not what it really was: another bloody rejection of everything he is, everything his ability means.

He drags another pillow over his head, groaning. It's all right. He's ill, he can feel sorry for himself if he wants to.

He doesn't exactly feel sorry for himself, though. A part of him feels relieved. Grateful. Grim, but satisfied. A part of him... it's such a strange sensation, there's no reason for him to feel relieved or grateful, he shouldn't... this isn't...

It isn't _him._

He sits bolt upright, pillows thrown aside, gasping for air as his heart pounds wildly in his chest. He focuses everything he has on that happy feeling, the sensations of gratitude and relief, because they're not his, they don't belong to anyone out in the city, they're coming from somewhere else, someone else, someone far away, _oh God._

He knows this mind. He knows these emotions. Weak and distant as they are, he could never have forgotten this feeling, never.

The Psilavon's dampening his ability a bit, but he puts both hands to his temples anyway, trying desperately to send out thoughts. «Hello? It's me... it's me, I can feel you! I can feel you again, where are you? Please! Please tell me, I'm listening, please... I'm here... I can feel you... please, _please_...»

The emotions from his bondmate fade, eventually, but it's not like before. He isn't being blocked. There's still the thinnest tendril of a connection there, he can feel it, the potential, the far-off sense of presence.

Somewhere out there, his bondmate is his again, not blocking, not gone. He's _alive_ \-- for the first time in eight years, Charles can be certain he's still alive-- and if he's alive, if he isn't blocking Charles anymore, then maybe... maybe...

By the time he stops sending to his bondmate, Charles's headache is ten times worse than it started, so bad it's blinding. He doesn't care. He'll suffer through a thousand headaches like this if he has to, if it just means finding his bondmate again. Finding, if nothing else, _answers._ Eight years too late, but answers all the same.

* * *

**July 15, 2008**

"There you are! God, come here." Erik pulls Jason into his arms, right there at baggage claim, and swings him around. "I'm so sorry I had to cancel the move, you know how much paperwork I've had to deal with--"

"I know, I know, trust me. If you were going to bail on New York, it couldn't have been for a better reason." Jason hugs Erik back. "How's everything going with all that? Everything just about settled?"

"Everything is _never_ going to be 'just about settled,'" Erik says, grimacing as they head over to the baggage carousel. "I'm going to be dealing with lawyers for the rest of my life. But the good news is that I've got the whole fucking business dismantled, and I've been selling off the assets. You have no idea how much money that son of a bitch had lying around in accounts."

"And it's all yours."

"And it's all mine," Erik agrees grimly. "I think I see your bag, it's on the far side, there, is that it...?"

"That's it," Jason agrees.

Erik slants a grin over at him and says, "Watch this."

The suitcase lifts up, and several people who were waiting for their bags step back, watching as it flies right over to Erik. He plucks it out of the air, sets it down, and draws out the handle, bowing at the waist toward Jason. "All yours."

Jason laughs, clapping Erik on the shoulder. If they're getting dirty looks from some of the humans at baggage claim-- well, fuck them. Erik stands up again and hauls Jason into another hug.

"I'm getting more of it back every day. I think I might go in for a MAT at the end of the month."

"If I'm around, I'll go in with you." Jason takes his bag in hand and wheels it around. "I'm ready to head home whenever you are."

"I'm parked out this way. Come on."

\---

Charles straightens, going still for a few seconds; Raven steps over to him and puts a hand on his arm. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," Charles says, and at first he can't help it. He smiles. Something's happening for his bondmate, he can feel it... whatever it is, it leaves his bondmate happy, delighted, just for a few brief moments.

And then it's gone again. «I don't know what that was, but thank you...» Charles tries sending. Nothing comes back to him. «Thank you for sharing that,» he tries, pushing as much gratitude and warmth through the bond as he can.

Still nothing in response. Charles sighs. Raven's been very patient with him in all this, considering. She picked up the slack when he bailed out of two major social engagements and a board meeting for the Foundation, covering for him while he hired a car and driver to take him out along the east coast seeker grid while Charles devoted all his energy and concentration to reaching out, trying to sense the bond.

After days of driving without feeling even a hint of a direction, he bought a plane ticket to St. Louis, hoping that being nearer to the center of the country might give him more of a chance of feeling a pull, and from there he flew to Chicago, then Denver, then Portland. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He came back to Manhattan, jet-lagged and discouraged, but soon Raven urged him to try again.

This time she's driving him herself. The one time he felt a direction as a teenager, he thought it was leading north and west, so they've tried that, heading to Buffalo. He's not feeling anything here, either, but he's better for the company. Even if they are stopping rather more often for coffee breaks than he'd been doing on his own.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Raven strokes his arm. "You want me to get your tea for you?"

"I can order it," Charles says, stepping forward in line. "I still can't believe it sometimes. Almost three weeks now. I feel him a little more clearly every day."

"I know, and that's great," Raven says, eyebrows creasing a little as she looks at him. "It's still great, right...?"

"Of course," Charles says automatically. He must not be very convincing, not to Raven; she frowns. "I just... I still don't know anything. I don't understand why he's stopped blocking me."

"How does he feel?"

"Just then? Happy." Charles shrugs, advances a bit in line again. "But that's what it's like now. The occasional burst of feeling, and then hardly anything at all. Or anger. Sometimes I'll feel him getting angry." And satisfaction, wrapped up tightly with that anger; Charles doesn't know what to call that, and he doesn't want to share it with anyone, either. He doesn't understand it himself; he certainly doesn't want other people trying to help him analyze it. "That part's familiar."

"Do you think he feels you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." Even if his bondmate still wants nothing to do with him, surely he'd have some sort of reaction to the emotions Charles sends him, at least a bit of annoyance or indifference.

"Well... maybe someday," Raven says. "Maybe soon."

"Maybe," Charles says. "There we are, you're next..."

"Hi," Raven tells the barrista, "grande Americano, splash of soy milk, shot of caramel."

"And your name?"

"Raven."

"Got it. Thanks."

When it's Charles's turn, he manages a smile and says, "Hot tea, Earl Grey, please."

"Name?"

"Charles." He takes a breath, all his focus going back to the bond. «My name is Charles. Can you hear me? What's your name? I want to find you... where are you? How do I find you? I'm here, I'm listening... please. Please.»

* * *

**July 18, 2008**

Erik looks over at Jason and takes a deep breath. "While you're here-- I have a favor to ask you."

"Name it."

"I want to try going out and scening."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "As opposed to staying in and scening...?"

"It might go badly," Erik points out. "It's going to be the first time since Sebastian died. It might be easier for you to scrape me off the floor if you're not involved in the scene directly..."

"I can handle it either way," Jason promises, "but if you want to go out, I'll go with you."

"Thank you." Erik stands up, grabs for his jacket.

"Whoa, really-- now?"

Erik shrugs. "No time like the present, right?"

"Right," Jason drawls, unfolding himself from the sofa-- and for a split-second, Erik hesitates, wondering if staying in and scening was the right idea after all.

Probably not. He and Jason have been so close over the years, and the way Erik's been feeling these last few weeks... a scene with him isn't just going to be platonic painplay. Not a chance. Things are complicated enough in Erik's head as it is; better not to drag Jason into his confusion.

"Okay," Jason says. "Well, let's see what we come up with."

Erik grins and reaches out toward the hook by the door, tugging his keys off it and pulling them across the room. The satisfaction hums through him; maybe now, maybe this time, he'll actually have a good night.

\---

Raven snuggles in against Charles, popcorn bowl in her lap. There's no earthly reason for Charles to be watching Raven's latest recording of some reality TV dance contest show, but he doesn't have anywhere to go, either, and the feelings he's been getting from his bondmate have been quiet for the last few days. He called off their seeker trip when his sense of the bond narrowed to a thin wire of presence again, nothing he could even fool himself into believing he could follow. Even so, he'd probably just end up staying in his room projecting if he didn't have Raven here to distract him.

A few dance numbers in, though, Charles flushes, quickly squirming out from under Raven.

"Hey, my pillow," Raven says, sitting up. "You-- whoaaaa, okay, ew." She scoots a little further down the couch. "Are you, uh--"

"No," Charles says, putting a pillow on his lap, "but he is."

"Yeesh. You can't, like... do something about the response? I mean, I know you're out of practice, but still."

"I'd have to block him, and I can't just..." Oh, it isn't getting any better; if anything, it's growing more intense. "Excuse me."

He ends up fleeing upstairs awkwardly, taking the pillow with him. Once he's in his bedroom, he strips down and climbs into bed, sending out emotions of his own: _welcome,_ more than anything. «It's all right, I'm here, I remember you... I remember this so well, please, let me do this with you, let me be with you... _please,_ I'm here, I'm listening...»

His bondmate's arousal draws up, and up, higher and higher, warm and vibrant. Maybe he's hearing Charles now; maybe it's like when they were young, when they'd do this together.

It's worth a try. Charles grabs the lube out of his bedside table and slicks his cock, stroking himself easily at first, taking his time.

His bondmate's in a hurry, though. It's almost as though he's counting down to something, as though he's on a fuse. Charles won't have any trouble keeping up, though, not when it's been so long since he's had the chance to feel this from his bondmate--

\--which, that's odd, he's been feeling his bondmate for more than three weeks now, nearly four, almost a month and he's never felt this from his bondmate at _all?_ It actually gives Charles a bit of hope; surely his bondmate can't be going three weeks between even so much as having a quiet wank in bed, maybe the bond isn't entirely back just yet. And maybe when it comes back, he'll be able to feel a direction--

His bondmate's mood shifts, growing more and more desperate. This isn't arousal, though; this is something else. Charles takes his hand off his cock, fetches a tissue to wipe away the slick mess of lube. Something's wrong. His bondmate was happy before, aroused, pleased, excited, but now he's just grieving. Grieving, and... reaching out...

«I'm here! I'm here, let me help, please, tell me where you are, I'll come get you, let me come to you... please...»

There's nothing but a dull ache now, and after a while, Charles grimaces and climbs out of bed, heading for the shower so he can clean up.

* * *

**July 21, 2008**

Sebastian's money is still paying for medical bills for nearly a dozen different people, all over the world. Erik feels sick every time he sees their names. Gerald Stone. Aileen Stone. Rosella Conti. Loraine Bastin. Eduardo Herrada. Matthew Herrada. Jamie Alsop...

But there's one name that isn't on those documents, one name that Erik only just learned. And today he's at the Raft, standing next to his lawyer-- his lawyer, not Sebastian's-- waiting to see her.

When they're escorted into the small observation room, Erik feels out around the edges of the room for all the metal here. He can sense the framework, the reinforcement, the expensive, industrial-grade adamantium that lines this entire building. He could probably get a good sense of the wiring and the alarm systems if he were to put his hands on the walls and feel around for them, but he isn't going to do that. He needs to look calm, while he's here; he needs to look as though this is just another conference.

The door opens, and a pair of armored, uniformed guards bring in a short Asian woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She has on thick gauntlets that go up to her elbows, and they're wired to a collar so huge and high that she has no choice but to keep her chin tilted up. Another prisoner might look helpless. Min Li Ng looks proud.

She deserves to be. Erik stands to greet her, and her eyes narrow, but she doesn't speak until the guards have filed back out of the room, leaving Erik and his lawyer alone with her.

"They said you're his widower," she says. If it weren't for the collar and the gauntlets, her eyes would probably be spitting fire-- literally, given what he knows about her ability. Erik doesn't back down from that gaze.

"Yes."

"I hope you don't expect me to be sorry."

"I'm here to offer you legal and financial support."

The shock on her face lasts only an instant, and then she sags, sinking into her chair, understanding and sympathy coming over her features. She nods.

"My name is Erik Lehnsherr."

"Min Li Ng, but you knew that." She rests her gauntlets on the table. "Did you go through a B2C operation, too?"

Erik glances at his lawyer. The non-disclosure agreement is, technically, still on the table, pending the final dissolution of Sebastian's estate. It seems a ridiculous notion, having to hold back the truth for fear of his own estate suing him, but until everything's settled, these are hoops Erik is willing to jump through. Sebastian's estate is worth a lot of money. There are a lot of people who need it, a lot of people who are still surviving despite all the harm Sebastian caused.

"I can't talk about it," Erik says, finally. "But I want you to know that I understand the loss you're suffering, and I'm sorry. Whatever I can do for you, I will." One more glance to his lawyer, and to Min Li, and Erik says, "Off the record-- thank you." He reaches out and strokes the gauntlet she's wearing, feels her press her palm against the inside of it as though she's reaching for him in return. "Thank you."

\---

After days of distance, the emotions are back in the bond. He's so close today. Charles stops cold in the middle of the pavement, tucks his satchel under one arm, and lifts both hands to his temples. «I feel you. I can sense you so clearly... where are you? Please, I just want to talk to you, just once, please, just meet me once, and you'll never have to see me again. Just give me one chance to find you and I'll take it. Please...»

Grief comes over him in a wave, and just as quickly it's followed by revulsion, hatred, _relief_ , all of it pushed through the bond as though directed right at him.

Charles holds very still, waiting for it to pass. Waiting to collect himself enough to move. He spends the rest of the day flinching from everything he gets through the bond, even though by the end of the day, his bondmate feels like he's getting further and further away.

* * *

**August 2008**

Charles tries everything. Happiness, every time he feels it. Regret, as often as he can bear to wallow in it. When he sees something that tickles his sense of humor, he sends his amusement to his bondmate; when he's going to bed at night, he sends his sense of hope. If they can feel each other, they can find each other. Somehow. The bond wouldn't have come back only to leave them stranded, surely.

It's hard to keep his spirits up when he's getting nothing positive in return. Every time there's happiness, Charles tries to respond with pleasure and curiosity, but it's always followed by some sort of crash: anger, grief, regret. Every time he feels as though his bondmate might be reaching out for him, it's tangled up in frustration, and after a few moments, a sense of a door closing, of his bondmate turning away.

It's all starting to feel like some sort of cruel prank-- the bond returns, only for his bondmate to reject him over and over again, telling him time and time again that Charles can never be good enough, that his bondmate may have stopped blocking but he certainly doesn't want Charles back in his life.

And then one day the bond goes completely dark again, even the narrowest sense of presence vanishing entirely. Charles is at home at the time, which is fortunate, because he has to sit down, shaking as he reaches out with as much of his ability as he can muster.

«Don't go. Not again. Please, not again... I need you. Please don't leave me, I just want to meet you once, just once... an hour, _one minute_ , don't go without telling me why, please-- _please don't go--_ »

The bond fades back in, slow and unsteady, heavy with fear. The fear ebbs a few minutes later, but even then, all Charles gets from it is weary, anxious resignation. Charles might have talked him into staying, but he's not happy about it.

It might only be a matter of time before his bondmate blocks him again, this time for good. If Charles is ever going to find out why, he can't just wait for the bond to get stronger. He needs to find his bondmate _now_.

«And then you can block me all you please. But I want to know why, first. I deserve to know why.»

\---

Dr. Cabrera slides the helmet off him, and Erik takes a few deep breaths, trying to stay calm.

He'd never imagined being in a bond specialist's office again, certainly never imagined that he'd allow one to examine him-- much less put a helmet or a cage over his head. But it's been almost two months since Sebastian's death, and he still can't feel anything from his real soulmate. If he's out there, Erik needs to know.

Finding a bond specialist who was more ethical than Sebastian was easy. Finding one who had a good reputation, even among mutant clients, was more difficult. Finding someone who was familiar with the B2C procedure was also a challenge. Dr. Rosario Cabrera fits all three criteria, and the initial consultation with her didn't make Erik's skin crawl.

He only started getting nervous during the examination. When she placed the isolation helmet on him to gauge the leftover energy from both his natural bond and the bond Sebastian forced on him, Erik felt so empty it was almost impossible to stay calm. Having the helmet off was a relief, even without test results in hand.

"I wish I could give you more definitive answers," she tells him, afterwards, when he's calmed down and gotten dressed. They're both seated in her office, and Erik has a cup of coffee cradled between his hands. "It looks as though the spliced bond is gone entirely, which, frankly, is unusual for a widower. If I had to make a guess, I'd say that whatever was holding it on to you died when your spliced bondmate did, and it hasn't left much behind."

Erik nods. _Spliced bondmate_ , that's a much more civilized term than the ones he's used over the years. "But the original bond..."

"It's weak, and it's taken years of damage from the other bond's presence. But when we removed the isolation helmet, it didn't simply lie still, the way a normal widowed bond would. It still points in a direction."

He knows better than to get his hopes up by now, and he's still shaken enough from the examination that he couldn't get excited even if he wanted to. "I don't feel anything from the original bond."

"And you may never feel anything. I'm sorry, Erik, but it's entirely possible that any movement or orientation in the original bond is being triggered by your own psionic impulses. You did say your ability's been recovering..."

"Finally," Erik says, nodding. "Yes."

"It might be nothing more than a response to your magnetism. I'd be more than happy to consult with you again in three months, say, when you've had more time to heal, but unless you begin feeling anything different, I doubt I'll have good news for you."

"All right." He pauses, looking at her for a moment. "I'm not the only person whose bond was damaged by a procedure like this one. I know that much."

"I'm sorry to say that's true. Under the best of circumstances, things can still go wrong. Under profoundly unethical circumstances..."

"...yes," Erik agrees quietly. "And there are people worse off than I am. I think..." He remembers the Stones; he's unlikely ever to forget what they looked like in their hospice, back in Nebraska. "I think they'd do better under your care. If you ever decide to specialize in bond repair, I could certainly find you clients."

"I'd be more than willing to put some time in at a clinic, if we could find funding for one. I'm not the only doctor doing this kind of research; I know quite a few people who've written papers, done clinical trials."

"But funding is your sticking point?" Erik folds his hands together in his lap; they're shaking a bit, his whole body's trembling.

"At the moment. Setting something like that up isn't easy; generally speaking, the doctors who specialize in this sort of niche research are located all over the country, if not over the world..."

"But a research grant, say. It could make a difference."

"Absolutely."

All that money Sebastian left him, and finally there might be something he can do with it that feels like _justice_. Erik takes a breath and nods. "I'll be in touch," he promises her, and he heads out of the office. He's got some phone calls to make.

\---

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Charles says, pouring out two cups of tea and taking the tray over to Jean. She adds milk and a little sugar to hers, and sits back in the armchair, smiling.

"It was the least I could do. I'm flattered that you thought of me." She stirs her tea gently with her little silver spoon and sets the spoon on the saucer before taking a sip. "You were so patient with me when my telepathy started developing-- I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I'm certain you would have managed," Charles says, "though the first few months wouldn't have been easy."

"Even with your help, they weren't easy." Jean takes another sip of tea and sets her teacup aside. "So what is it I can do for you? Your message said you needed help with _your_ telepathy..."

"Yes." Charles straightens, setting his tea aside as well. "I don't know if this is something you gleaned when we were working together--" he gestures up at his temple-- "but I was renounced when I was a teenager. Recently I've been feeling my bondmate again, but I can't get a fix on his direction."

"No?" Jean frowns. "Any idea why?"

"Even when I was younger, I could never discern a direction. I sensed so much psionic energy coming from all the minds around me, it felt almost as if that were drowning it out. That may still be the difficulty, although there are other possibilities as well." Charles glances away for a moment. "I don't know precisely what he did to block me in the first place. It was quite sudden, and rather dramatic."

"Some sort of medication? Maybe he's stopped taking it."

"Or if it was some kind of ritual or meditation, it might be that he's just stopped practicing it. I'm not sure he can feel me." He's tried to believe that he can't; Charles doesn't want to think that all his bondmate's anger and frustration and outright rejection are meant for him, but it's hard to believe otherwise, sometimes. "I can feel him, and I've tried to send him my emotions... if he's getting them at all, though, he's ignoring them."

"You said it was dramatic." Jean props her chin on her hand. "People lose their bonds due to illness sometimes. If he was sick, maybe he's starting to get better."

"Perhaps. I was hoping you could help me sort through the background noise, as it were. Help me get a good fix on the bond itself, and where it's meant to be leading me."

"I can try."

They end up sitting on the floor, facing each other, Jean's hands on Charles's shoulders, Charles's fingertips on her temples. «I'm going to dampen the minds around you,» Jean sends to him. «Don't be alarmed.»

«I won't be,» Charles promises. «It's all right. Go on.»

Having Jean block-- or partially block-- the minds nearest to him is still disconcerting, even prepared for it and knowing it was coming. The world doesn't go completely silent, though, which helps. Instead, the rest of the world fades into a dull roar, all the noises from all those minds blending into a single low-frequency murmur.

Above them, though, weak but bright, Charles can feel his bond. He concentrates on it, the thin shimmering strand of it, the way it always connected him to his bondmate before... west, he remembers that afternoon when he could actually feel his bondmate west of him, back before the renunciation. «Are you still there? Still out west?»

He does feel a tug to the west, but it's not as profound as it was the one time he felt a direction, when he was younger. When Jean senses him focusing on that tug, though, she slips her hand up, asking permission mentally before touching his joining spot. Charles gives her his mental assent, and she covers it with her palm, rubbing firmly at it.

Which quickly leads to an entirely different form of distraction, one that makes Charles startle upright. «Carefully, carefully, please--!»

«I'm sorry!» She moves her hand away, and Charles bites down hard on his lower lip, aching now, wanting her hand back for more reasons than one.

He breathes in deeply, trying to calm down. «I apologize, I'm not even very sensitive there... it must be because we're connected...»

«I thought I could draw more sensation out of the bond if I touched it. I'm so sorry, Charles,» Jean sends.

«You certainly did that,» Charles tells her, and his dry embarrassment is met with equal chagrin from her. «I'm braced now, though. If you think it would help...»

«I really do,» she sends. «I'll be more gentle this time.»

«Thank you.»

The second time she strokes his joining spot. he can feel what she was trying to do in the first place: coax more energy into it. He feels a surge of power, and realizes that she's lending him some of her energy, giving it to him until he can steer the bond on his own. As they work together on it, it orients sharply on his bondmate, and this time Charles is sure it's no error, no wishful thinking. His bondmate _is_ west of here... and he's not very far away, either. He doesn't feel half so far as he did when they were younger.

When he slips out of Jean's mind, she draws back, pulling her hand off his joining spot and wiping her palms on her skirt. "Did that help at all?" she asks. Her voice is a bit hoarse, a little throaty. Charles clears his own throat before even trying to speak.

"I believe it did, thank you," he says. "It's going to take some more practice and meditation, but I think I have a start on it. He isn't far, not so far as I can tell."

"Maybe you should look at some maps," Jean suggests, climbing back into her armchair. "See if bond intuition can get you a location."

"I'll do that. Thank you very much, you've been extremely helpful."

"Like I said." She runs both hands through her hair and picks up her tea again-- it's probably gone a bit cold, but she doesn't seem to mind, draining it all the same. "Anything I can do for you, any time."

\---

For the next week, Charles takes Jean's advice and looks at a few maps, New York and neighboring states. He checks in on his bond, carefully dampening the minds around him, following the trail of his bond out west.

It takes him a while, but when he sees it, he wonders how he could have missed it before.

_I was just there. I was there last year. The first place that pops into your head..._

Classes have already started, but he can take time off for a seeker trip. He doesn't have to tell anyone at Elion the whole story: when he says it's urgent, no one argues. Finally, all these years later, he's old enough for people to take his word for it. The irony doesn't escape him: now, when he doesn't feel that awful mix of fear and pain and grief from his bond the way he did when they were younger, _now_ people will accept that it can't wait.

Arranging time off, packing, making travel plans: it all takes much longer than he would have liked. But every time he reaches for his bond, he's sure.

Pittsburgh.

He's going. He's going to meet his bondmate there. After all these years, he'll finally know what happened, and _why._


	2. Rocky Start (2/9) - 2008.09.10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains references to noncon and abuse in Erik's past.

**September 10, 2008**

Erik's shouting at the top of his lungs, fist raised in the Mutant Pride symbol-- thumb tucked behind his third finger, the ASL sign for the letter "M"-- and it all feels good, the protest feels as if it's going to get somewhere. The speaker on the platform is making her points about the newest bill in Congress meant to force a nationwide Mutant Registration Act, and Erik has an eye on the crowd, making sure no one's going to snap.

He's prepared for it to end in arrests; he left his windcatcher at home just in case he ended up in police custody again. But he has enough of his ability back to help keep people safe. Maybe he can't stop a bullet, but he can pull people apart by their buckles and buttons, clog up the tubes that fire off pepper spray. 

Three months now he's been a member of Mutants For Mutant Rights, and more and more, things like this protest feel _right._ They feel like what he was meant to do, what he should have been doing for the past eight years. And when someone's hand settles on his shoulder, that feels right, too, at first. Solidarity, warmth, comradeship-- only it's more, it's so much _more,_ how is he feeling so much from a simple touch to his shoulder...?

He turns, looks at the man standing just behind him. He's... God, he's beautiful. He may be the most attractive man Erik's ever laid eyes on, which is a strange reaction to be having, because he's also short, a good half a foot shorter than Erik, and pale, with a prominent freckled nose and a stubborn-looking chin. In his suit jacket and tie, he doesn't fit into this crowd at all.

But his lips are so distracting Erik can hardly look at anything else-- they're a perfect bow shape, and lush red. His eyes are blue, intelligent, and completely intent on Erik. He has wavy brown hair. In fact... looking him over from head to foot, Erik's stomach pitches. This is exactly the kind of dominant Erik was trying to avoid when he stopped going to the clubs; he's let doms who look like this man push him well past the breaking point on too many occasions to name.

"Excuse me," the man says, as Erik finally jerks backward, pulls his shoulder out of his grasp.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but we're all a bit busy here," Erik says. He gestures up at the speaker, trying to get back to the rhythm of the call-and-response the speaker's been working with. _Mutant? PRIDE! Mutant? PRIDE!_

But he doesn't get very far before the dom's shoving up next to him. "This is important," he tells Erik, loud, firm-- like he isn't expecting to hear "no" to anything he asks for. Erik feels an itch at the base of his skull even as he looks down at the other man. He's not going to drop here, he's _not_ , it doesn't matter how attractive this man is or how classically authoritative he sounds, that strong voice and plummy English accent, as he says, "Could I speak to you privately, please."

That's not a question. He's _telling_ Erik what to do. Erik grits his teeth, because half of him just wants to follow this man wherever he goes and do whatever he says.

Not today. He's past that. Past it.

 _"This_ is important," Erik says, gesturing up at the speaker, around at the rest of the protest. "The future of mutant rights is important. Whatever you have to say can _wait_."

The other man's eyes narrow, and he raises his voice as he says, "I've been waiting eight years. How much longer do you intend to put me off?"

"You've got the wrong man, I don't know you--" Except Erik does, somehow. Oh, God. Maybe this is someone Erik's scened with, but when could that have possibly... eight years, he said. Eight years, where was Erik eight years ago?

Fuck, eight years ago Erik was in Atlantic City. How in hell did someone from Atlantic City find him here?

"For fuck's sake," Erik snaps. "If you've been waiting eight years to catch up with some sub you barely even spoke to, you're wasting your time. I don't do that anymore."

The other man leans in, and instead of jerking away, like he ought to-- like he should by instinct-- Erik leans towards him. 

"We never _spoke_ at all," the man says. "We haven't been in contact since April 22nd, 2000. You could at least talk to me now."

April 22nd. April 22nd, 2000. There are only a few people who know how significant that date is to Erik. None of them are in any condition to-- or ever would-- share that information with a man who looks like this, a man who fits every detail of what Erik's been chasing for the last eight years. A man who could track Erik down in the middle of a crowd. A man whose touch felt right the instant his hand landed on Erik's shoulder.

It can't be anyone else. Erik _knows_ this man. And almost before the realization hits him, he's sending out his thoughts the way he used to, the way he did every day for five years, the way he's done ever since, even though he was told this man was dead.

«Are you out there, can you--» And then he stops himself, because no, those aren't the questions he needs answered right now. « _You._ Where the fuck have you _been?!»_

The other man looks startled, but only for a moment. His brows knit together, he sets his jaw, and just like that, the voice that's been missing from Erik's soul for the past eight years is back, glorious and clear, everything Erik ever dreamed of. «It's me, yes.»

Words, _oh, God,_ Erik can make out words now. He can barely breathe. The rest of the crowd is gone, just-- gone. Nothing else matters, just those words, those words _in his mind._ Erik's soulmate, his _real_ soulmate, is standing in front of him, and... he's wearing a circle-M pin on his lapel. Holy fuck. Erik was right. Erik was right all along, his soulmate was a-- _is_ a telepath.

And an angry one, at that. Frustration colors his mental communication as he goes on, «In order, I convalesced in Westchester, went to university in Boston, attended Oxford, and moved to Manhattan. And now I'm here. And you?»

Oh, the hell with that. Erik could take a lot of things from his soulmate right now-- _his soulmate,_ his heart's beating faster already, just thinking those words-- but he's not going to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He lashes right back with, «I spent five months with him in Park View, got away that September, went from Philadelphia to Atlantic City to Pittsburgh.»

It takes real restraint to keep himself at a distance now, even the limited distance forced on them by the crowd. He wants to reach out, he wants to touch-- all the rage he's feeling now, and Erik still wants this man to take him in his arms.

«What do you want from me?»

His soulmate arches an eyebrow. «Do you really want to do this here?»

That just brings the rage surging back to the surface, overwhelming everything else, as Erik thinks, as forcefully as he can, «If you think I'm getting on my knees for you or anyone, you're out of your mind.»

His soulmate actually winces; apparently Erik made an impression. He shakes his head as he sends back, «That's not why I'm here.»

Erik glares at his soulmate for a few heavy, tense moments, but then he nods. «Fine. Where?»

«Anywhere close by that's quieter will do.»

Erik guides them through the crowd, heading for the buses that brought some of their protesters here. He gets Damon's attention and comes in close-- suddenly the crowd seems loud again, and he shouts to be heard over it.

"Something's come up, I have to go."

"What?" Damon glances around at the crowd. "Erik, when the police show up to shut us down, we absolutely need you here to keep people safe--"

"I know," Erik tells him. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm not going to let anyone get hurt."

"This better be fucking important," Damon growls.

Erik glances over his shoulder at his soulmate. It seems impossible that anything could be more important than him right now-- and as soon as Erik thinks that, he shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts back together. There _are_ more important things. He's not going to lose himself to this, not now, not here. "Yeah," he says instead, "it'd better be."

\---

Charles follows his bondmate to the edge of the crowd. _Erik._ The other man called him Erik. Charles knows his first name now-- not that he learned it from Erik directly. God help him, Erik doesn't even want to give him that much.

If Charles had harbored any hopes that there'd be some lovely 'oh, it was all a terrible mistake' explanation, they're gone now. For a moment, he'd hoped it might be different; when he touched Erik for the first time, when his hand rested on Erik's shoulder, when Erik turned to look at him... when Erik first turned around, he looked open, for a moment, his emotions turning toward fellowship and longing.

But once his eyes swept over Charles, once recognition registered on his face, his brow crinkled, his face fell, and he jerked away, his disappointment and revulsion coming loud and clear through the bond. Charles has been bracing himself for a bad encounter, and now it looks as though this is going to be every bit as bad as he feared.

He never imagined his bondmate looking the way Erik does, but it answers one thing: why he chased after all those tall, lean subs, why his eye has always been caught by ginger-brown hair and changeable blue eyes, why all those scenes left him feeling abandoned afterward. Despite the dominant appearance, his shorn hair and plain, worn clothes-- he as much as said it, _If you think I'm getting on my knees for you or anyone, you're out of your mind--_ Charles can't deny Erik fits his type to an uncomfortable degree.

Charles has come up with so many reasons why his bondmate might have renounced him; orientation was always among them. He even spent months trying-- without much success-- to submit, in case that was it. Erik felt forceful even in their youth, and if anything, that's more pronounced now that Charles is seeing Erik in person. Fist in the air, shouting for mutant rights... those angry words lighting into Charles's mind and demanding answers of his own...

But there was more to him than that. In those first few seconds, Charles could feel the tug between them, could read Erik's urge to bend. The surface moods flying through Erik's mind when he first laid eyes on Charles were complicated, but none of them read like a dominant wanting someone else to roll over. Charles is intimately familiar with the way emotions and thoughts read when someone wants to offer up control; if he'd been guessing what Erik was feeling in those initial moments, he would have guessed that was it.

As Charles looks at him more closely, he can see places where the pieces don't quite fit. Erik's hair is buzzed down, the black leather jacket and old t-shirt he's wearing are definitely more dom fashion than sub, and he's got one of the thickest steel wallet chains Charles has seen in some time. It's thick enough Charles can't help but think that Cain would probably ask where Erik got it. But that wallet chain hangs over Erik's right hip, not his left, and his keys are clipped to his right belt loop as well. Possibly he's a switch, then...?

Well, they're here now. Charles came all this way for answers to questions like these. He follows as Erik walks up to an empty bus, waves his hand at the door, and-- the door folds open, that's interesting. But he doesn't have time to consider what Erik's mutation might be, because Erik's stepping onto the bus. Once on board, he looks over his shoulder and tilts his head at Charles.

"Best I can do," Erik says. "Are you coming or not?"

Charles sets his shoulders and climbs onto the bus. Erik paces a few steps down the aisle, then turns and crosses his arms over his chest. All right, fine; Charles can go first. "My name is Charles Xavier." Not that Erik asked, or can be expected to care.

"Erik Lehnsherr," Erik snaps back. "Until recently, Erik Shaw."

 _Until recently._ Did Erik renounce him to be with someone else, then? Did he stop blocking because that relationship ended? Everything Erik says and does just gives Charles more questions, not the answers he's wondered about for years.

And for all that, Charles just shakes his head. He's unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it's still the truth: "It's good to finally know your name."

Erik glares at him. The man radiates anger from every pore; if Charles did see auras around people, he'd probably be seeing nothing but a red haze all the way around Erik's body. "You're eight years too late for the nice-to-meet-you speech. What are you doing here?"

 _Where have you been? What are you doing here?_ It was a mistake to come. It was a mistake to think his bondmate could possibly welcome him-- this isn't going to be a reunion, it sounds as if it's just a nuisance to Erik. It's certainly not making Charles feel any better. The rejection stings, badly. He swallows, collects himself.

"To find out what happened." He can read tension from Erik now through their bond, and telepathically as well. "You stopped blocking me. Maybe you didn't realize." He gives Erik a glare of his own. "In which case I suppose I'm here to let you know you need to take up meditation again, or go back on whatever drug you were taking."

Pain bites into Charles, his joining spot aching with it, and then Erik's anger rushes up and swamps that feeling. "I never--" Erik stops, shuts his mouth, narrows his eyes. It takes a few moments for him to try again. "Do you have any idea how hard they tried to get me to block you? Do you have any clue how hard I fought for you? And now you want me to-- you want me to--"

The bench seat nearest Erik creaks, the back of it angling down as Erik's eyes flash. He shakes his head. _"You_ fucking block _me_ if that's what you want."

"I didn't say it's what I wanted! Not that you asked me before," Charles snaps back. He watches as the seat keeps sinking, keeps dropping lower and lower, and as Erik takes notice of where Charles's gaze has gone, he makes an impatient sound. He waves his hand at the bench seat, and it lifts back up, solidifying into place. Telekinetic, maybe...? It's not an incompatible mutation with telepathy. Maybe it wasn't that, either, then...

Erik's words come back to him, the curse of mutation-enhanced photographic memory. _Do you have any idea how hard they tried to get me to block you, do you have any clue how hard I fought for you_... God, what does that mean? "Who are you talking about, who were you fighting?"

"My foster parents," Erik says shortly. "My _bond therapist,"_ and if that isn't sarcasm, nothing is, but it doesn't help Charles suss out what Erik's trying to say. "His name was Sebastian, by the way. He died early this summer. June."

June, just when Charles was beginning to sense Erik again. "Then whatever 'bond therapy' you were undergoing, it's worn off."

Nausea threatens to overwhelm him, but it isn't his. It's Erik's. The horror in Erik's mind is so thick Charles almost glances out the windows of the bus, wondering if other people are recoiling from it as sharply as Charles wants to. Just as quickly, the sickness and horror are gone, leaving Charles with an aching sense of his bondmate's disgust and rage. "Get off my fucking bus," Erik says hoarsely.

That's _it?_ Charles grits his teeth and steps forward. "Gladly, when I've heard what I came here for. What did you do that day? Why?" He lifts a hand to his temple, focusing hard on Erik. «Was it this? You didn't have a problem with it just now when it saved you the trouble of having to shout over the crowd.»

Erik's emotions are all over the place now: shock, awe, something that Charles has to be misinterpreting, a man who's just told Charles to _get the fuck off his bus_ can't possibly be feeling that much longing. Erik takes a deep breath, and then his thoughts are coming toward Charles, bubbling up as though Erik's underwater. «I let a butcher cut you out of my head, is that what you want to hear? I let him take me home and make me his slave for five months because it didn't matter what happened to me anymore, do you need to hear that too? What else do you need to know?» Charles gets a flash of pain, a remembered physical sensation, dull and quick, the lower right side of his back. «He left eight scars on me before he died, do you want to count them?»

Charles can't process it all, not through the pain Erik's sharing with him. It's not an attack, it's not deliberate-- these memories are hurting Erik, somehow. It doesn't make any sense. Erik was the one who left Charles... _I let a butcher cut you out of my head..._

And still Charles hasn't gotten the answer he came here for, the only answer that matters now. _«Why?»_

He feels Erik's intent an instant before Erik moves, he could stop Erik, but he lets Erik grab him by the arms anyway. That touch... it's too hard, but it's his bondmate, _his,_ and every instinct inside him tells him that Erik belongs to him. If he were holding onto Erik, he'd be clinging every bit as tightly.

"Because I trusted the wrong people at the wrong time for all the wrong reasons. And if I could go back and fight them off, I would. I'm _sorry."_

Charles gets anger from that, but he can feel that Erik means it. Whatever those wrong reasons were, Erik regrets every one of them.

He brings his arms up, twists-- not enough to break Erik's grip, but enough to loosen him. When Erik starts to draw away, Charles catches Erik's hands, holding on. "Just tell me what happened. Please." Erik's gaze drops; Charles squeezes his hands. "And then I'll get off your bus and out of your life, whatever you want, but tell me."

He takes a breath, and then another, watching Erik's chest rise and fall with two deep breaths of his own. Erik is so angry, though-- so angry, and the anger breaks and spills over everything else he might be feeling. "You show up," he whispers, "and you want me to relive the worst day of my life?" He jerks back, his hands slipping out of Charles's grasp. The instantaneous regret Charles feels from that loss is echoed within their bond, Erik feeling it as keenly as Charles does. "I already told you," Erik goes on, "I've told you _twice,_ excuse me if I feel the need to safeword out of having to say it again and again."

Safeword? Charles has been patient, he's been patient for eight years, but this-- this is too much. Erik's anger when Charles pointed out that _Erik_ blocked _him,_ the contradiction of _I fought for you_ and _I let a butcher cut you out of my head_ \-- the story may be clear in Erik's mind, but all Charles has is a tangled mess of anger and denial.

He's been patient long enough. He's not leaving with only that.

"Don't tell me, then," he says, and he focuses his thoughts, calms his mind as best he can. «Let me look for myself.» When Erik's eyes go wide again, Charles lifts both hands, shaking his head in reassurance. «I won't read anything else, just the separation. I never knew what happened to you, I was in a coma, it took months to recover and I never got everything back-- I always had to _wonder_ and _try_ and search just in case you were out there--»

It seems impossible, but Erik's eyes are shining, their bond is wracked with sorrow. Charles shouldn't, this isn't fair, but he presses his advantage.

«You can allow this much. You don't even have to do anything. Just say yes.»

Erik's hand shakes as he lifts it up, presses his palm against his joining spot. Under other circumstances, Charles could interpret that as an overture toward something, but here and now it's nothing of the kind. Erik's having trouble staying upright. His other hand comes out, grips the back of the seat he nearly bent to the ground before, but his thoughts are clear and solid when he sends back, «Yes.»

When Charles was younger, he used to dream of the day he'd first be able to read his bondmate. He imagined so many different things about it, before they were separated: asking permission, having it joyfully granted, his bondmate telling him _Oh, Charles. I wanted this, too. Ever since I realized I was hearing you. I wanted to share this with you so much._ In the years since, he's come to realize that it was foolish to ever think it might happen that way, even with his bondmate-- perhaps especially with his bondmate, given the way he abandoned Charles at the height of his ability.

But he never imagined this: slipping into his bondmate's thoughts while his bondmate stands there, lashes wet with tears, vibrating with anger and regret, opening up to give Charles the answers he's been waiting eight years to find.

The memories are at the surface, of course they are; Charles can't think of anything but that awful day and the ones following, either. When he follows Erik's sorrow back to the beginning, he finds a couple, Gerald and Aileen, a confrontation in a kitchen. _You have to renounce. You need to try to block your bond. You need to start right now!_

And Erik's instantaneous, defensive response to that, the way he clung to their bond even then. _What? No!_

It shakes Charles to the core, that memory-- _Do you have any idea how hard they tried to get me to block you? Do you have any clue how hard I fought for you?_ \-- but he's come this far, he needs to know the rest.

Days pass. Erik's bond is the only shining spot in his life, his bond and his friends. One friend in particular, a dominant young man, handsome, Asian, a piece of jewelry wrapped around his left wrist, something that even in Erik's memories, Erik identifies as belonging to _him_. A night in a hotel room, Erik dazzling in a tuxedo with a red corset vest, his friend-- emfriend? partner?-- holding back, waiting for something. Longing, stretched across the bond... desire, arousal, but _commitment,_ Erik pressing his friend away, _I want to wait..._

A fight in a high school hallway, a terrified mutant girl, Erik drawing her away from four human boys. Boys who are quickly pinned to the lockers behind them by a power whose magnitude Erik can barely recall wielding now: violence, a temper that echoes into the man Charles is seeing before him. 

Arrests, fear, the couple from before coaxing him to go somewhere for tests, the procedure that next morning, an injection, _no,_ oh God, Charles doesn't want to see this, doesn't want to know this, he can't look away, he can't, oh God, this can't be happening to them--

_Help me, they're hurting me, please, please--_

_It wasn't the bond, it was me. It wasn't him. Me. It was me. Hurt me if you have to, don't hurt him, don't touch it, let it go, let me go--_

_No no no please--_

Charles's own mental voice, words that his bondmate can make out for the first time, his cry of shock, his plea, Erik struggling as hard as he can and fighting to hold on, _please, don't go, stay with me--_

He can't bring himself to back away from these memories seared in Erik's mind, every moment, every agonizing twist of their bond being manipulated, the psionic blade sinking into Erik's joining spot, cutting their bond apart.

Blackness. At first Charles thinks it's a mercy, it's over, but then the sensations begin coming to him, the dull, dead ache in his joining spot, the horrible warmth of a body behind him, lips brushing soul's-home, the wrong lips, the wrong man, someone who feels hollow to Erik, empty, but joined to him.

_Until recently, Erik Shaw... my 'bond therapist'... his name was Sebastian, by the way... he died early this summer, June..._

Charles can't look. He can't look away.

_Get it all out now, Erik. All of it. Because for every second you spend grieving him after today, you're going to spend an hour showing me you know who your dominant really is._

Charles wrenches himself out of Erik's mind, staggering back, his face and fingertips going cold, his whole body freezing and bloodless. He reaches out and grips the nearest seat, trying to stay upright. Everything he might have said, everything he might have done-- now it's all he can do to blink his eyes open again.

Erik's still there, and for all that he isn't moving, for all that he seems calm, Charles can feel a deadly, quiet rage flowing through their bond.

"Do you want the next five months of my life, too? Take them," Erik whispers. Charles starts to shake his head, but Erik isn't through. "Every April 22nd since he ripped me away from you? Take those."

 _He left eight scars on me before he died, do you want to count them?_ Oh, God. Not enough that Sebastian Shaw separated their bond and forced a connection with Erik himself; that false bond pulled Erik back to Shaw every year on the anniversary.

Tears are forming in Charles's eyes; he asked for this, _he asked._ Now he knows. He finally knows. And he was wrong, all this time, he was so wrong.

He can't speak; there's no way he could force sound through his closed throat. «I'm sorry,» he sends instead, giving Erik as much of his remorse and grief as he can. Erik doesn't respond; the bond still shimmers between them, that quiet rage still suffusing everything about him. «I'm sorry,» Charles tries again. «I'd do anything...»

Looking at Erik, though, he can see it's too late for that.

Charles forces himself to let go of the bus seat. His breaths are getting more and more ragged, more and more harsh, he can't trust his voice. «You'll receive a letter. Please open it. It won't be from me directly. I promise I won't try to get in touch with you again. I'm so sorry, Erik.»

The rage changes, surprise, a different sort of anger, but still anger, still accusation that Charles can't help but feel, can't blame Erik for at all, now. _Where the fuck have you been?_ Eight years with that monster who forced himself into their bond, and all this time, Charles believed it was Erik's _choice_ to let him go...

He stumbles off the bus, getting out, _out,_ pushing through the crowd, _going._ And as hard as Erik fought for him before, Charles understands perfectly well why he doesn't so much as say _Wait_ when Charles leaves now.

\---

Erik covers his face with his hands, trying to compose himself. Eight years. Eight years he's wondered, and hoped, and grieved. Eight years, and his soulmate's _alive._

Eight years of agony, and his soulmate came to him asking why Erik _renounced_ him. Why Erik _blocked_ him.

He doesn't know how long he's there, standing frozen, trying to feel something from his bond. _Anything._ Charles can feel him, now. (Charles. His soulmate's name is Charles. Charles Xavier. After all these years, Erik finally knows his name.) Charles can feel him, but Erik can't feel Charles, not even now, not when Erik's poured his memories into Charles's mind. Did Charles really feel _nothing_ at that? He thought he sensed sorrow, regret, guilt, but it might have been him... it might have all been him...

Because Charles _left._ Charles took all that from Erik, and he left. And no wonder. Erik rubs at his arms, lets out a shaking breath. Erik's soul is damaged. _Used_. Someone else had him first. Of course Charles could never want him now.

Someone pounds on the bus door, and Erik flinches back until he realizes it isn't Charles, come to confront him and level more accusations at him. This time it's Damon.

"Erik, hurry the fuck up, we need you, we need you _right now!"_

Erik comes off the bus, looking out at the crowd. The police are here, and it's worse than Erik expected. Riot shields, gas masks-- pepper spray containers. _Fuck._ Erik's ability has been getting stronger ever since Sebastian died, and it feels stronger than ever today, but he can't take the spray canisters away from every cop in the line. He can't save everyone.

He'll do what he can, though, until he has nothing left to give to the cause. He wades in and starts pulling the crowd and the police apart, starts drawing people back to safety.

\---

Charles stumbles away from the bus, nails digging into his palms. The world's blurring over more and more with every step, and it's crowded here, people coming to and from the protest. He's avoiding collisions with other pedestrians more by telepathy than by sight; he tries to lock down and shield harder when he realizes what he's doing, but his ability's been growing as his side of the bond's been returning, and he's too overcome right now to get a grip on it all.

He shouldn't run like this, he shouldn't hurry. It's possible Erik might follow eventually, could catch up to him. He might say, _We were young, you didn't know, I understand._ He might say, _I forgive you._

Hoping for it doesn't help. It doesn't happen.

The parking garage is less active than the street, thank God, because Charles stands wet-faced outside the rental car fumbling to unlock the door for an unacceptably long time before he finally remembers that there's a button to press on the key for that. It's been some time since he drove himself anywhere.

Once he's finally in the car, Charles buckles on the safety belt, automatically, absurdly, and it's when he's jabbing at the button that the first sound breaks out of his throat, not a cry or a sob, just some insuppressible creak of his vocal cords. Trapped in the car with him, his labored, rapid breathing sounds ridiculous, as if he just ran a marathon. He's wheezing like a bellows, loud and fast enough to hyperventilate, his head spinning.

Charles switches the stereo system on, because definitely, his nervous breakdown needs a soundtrack of what the DJ proclaims to be power hits of the '70s, '80s and '90s. _Ooh baby, I think I love you from head to toe._

He actually starts to get hold of himself, somehow, wiping under his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. What happened to Erik was horrible, unspeakably awful, but it was years ago. Erik survived it, he's healthy and strong and beautiful... and angry, and no wonder. He had a temper back when they were first bonded, with good reason, Charles knows now. Of course that's worse now, after everything he's been through. Charles promised to only read him for the events of their separation, but those memories were strung alongside more, the months afterward, the anniversaries, and Erik was pushing those forward as well; Charles caught echoes.

The anniversaries. _He left eight scars on me before he died, do you want to count them?_

_Do you have any idea how hard they tried to get me to block you, do you have any clue how hard I fought for you... where the fuck have you BEEN..._

He can't believe he came here arrogantly imagining he deserved some sort of explanation. Charles thoughtlessly endangered his bondmate, and compounded the sin by failing to take Erik's distress seriously in time to help him.

That day, that awful day, Charles blithely assured his bondmate that he'd come seeking soon, after months, _years,_ knowing that Erik was hurting and afraid. That last day, Erik needed him, called out to him, begged for his help...

_It wasn't the bond, it was me. It wasn't him. Me. It was me. Hurt me if you have to, don't hurt him, don't touch it, let it go, let me go--_

He get his hands over his face just in time to lose himself completely, crying with a violence he didn't know his body could muster. When the grief of losing the bond first weighed on him this heavily, the loss was fresh, leaving him enervated, too weak to weep like this, these messy wracking sobs. The fraction of his attention that's always a little offset, always reserved, finds it almost comical when tears begin to pool in the shallow cup of his palms.

Even with all that, even with his attempts to shield, Charles feels it when the tenor of the crowd changes at the protest. He wipes his face and gets out of the car, rushing to the railing.

The police have arrived. There are riot shields and tasers... they're beginning to wield pepper spray, and Erik is _down there,_ no, that's absolutely not acceptable.

Charles touches his temple. It's been years since he did this, but he's been getting stronger since the bond came back. If he can influence the officers just a little, just enough to make them think twice about bringing force to bear on the protesters...

...and just as quickly, he drops his hand. He thoughtlessly wielded his power before, with Erik, and it landed Erik in eight years of hell. He can't start influencing people now and pretend it's harmless.

He has the urge to physically wade into the fray, but even to himself that smacks of grandstanding. Despite conflict from the crowd, the police are already rounding up the protesters, and most of them are switching to passive resistance techniques, allowing themselves to be taken in. His eyes find Erik in the mass, and even though Erik is gesturing, clearly using his ability to do something-- to block off the pepper spray, from the way the police officers react when their canisters fail to deploy-- he doesn't fight when they cuff his hands. Through the bond, Charles can feel a certain amount of resolution in Erik. This seems to be what he expected, indeed, might have been the goal all along: this many arrests have a chance of making the evening news.

That does mean there's at least one thing Charles can do. After composing himself enough to make a phone call, he contacts the MAD-L switchboard and asks for information about legal aid in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.


	3. Rocky Start (3/9) - 2008.09 & 2008.10

**September 11, 2008**

Erik steps into the small room, his hands cuffed. He hasn't wanted to antagonize the guards by removing them, not when they overlooked the way he's dressed and put him in the male subs' holding cell. His haircut and his clothing could just as easily have marked him as dominant, and he's been in holding cells with packs of dominants before. He doesn't think he could have taken that this time.

"Mr. Lehnsherr?"

Erik focuses on the man at the table, and takes a seat across from him. "Yes?"

"My name is Thomas Axell. I'm with the Pittsburgh Center for Mutant Civil Liberties, and I'm here to represent you and the rest of the dominants and submissives at yesterday's protest."

Instantly, Erik's suspicious. "The Center's never been willing to work with us before." They've butted heads a few times; Mutants For Mutant Rights is a more radical organization than the Center, and Erik's never been able to pull members of the Center in on protests or demonstrations. They've largely gone their separate ways for the past few years, as far as Erik knows. "And why aren't you talking to Damon? He's our leader." More or less, although Erik's been taking that role more and more often lately.

"I was contacted personally by the Xavier Foundation, and--"

Erik tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "Were you."

"--we'll be handling your representation at the arraignment tomorrow--"

"Is he here?"

Axell pushes his glasses slightly further up on the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry?"

"Charles Xavier. Is he here? In Pittsburgh?"

"I'm afraid he has commitments back home."

The word _commitments_ lances through Erik, and he tries to think back to what Charles felt like, there on that bus. What metal he had on him. He doesn't remember commitment jewelry, just the sterling circle-M pin on his lapel. No rings, no necklaces, no bracelets. But Charles is a dominant. He might not wear any.

"All right."

"Dr. Xavier has arranged to post bail for everyone at the protest, though, those who need it. We'll be trying to work with the judge and prosecuting attorney to arrange plea bargains for as many as possible." Axell raises both eyebrows, and gestures down at the folder in front of him; Erik's only now noticing that it has Erik's name on it. "Going by your recent records, I'm guessing you'll be one of the people who refuses a plea bargain, so I'm also here to discuss your prospects at trial, if it comes to that."

At trial. The flawed human justice system isn't fast; Erik could be stranded here in Pittsburgh from now until next March, for all he knows, waiting for it to come to trial. While Charles is 'back home'... wherever that might be.

"If it'll end this sooner," Erik says quietly, "I'll take a plea bargain."

Axell may be surprised at that, but he covers it well. "All right. Well, we've got a lot to cover, so let's get started."

* * *

**September 12, 2008**

The Psilavon Charles takes with him when he's traveling is nearly exhausted by the time he returns to the city, and so is he. He couldn't sleep, the night Erik spent in a holding cell; he took another room at the hotel nearest the prison, dedicating a thread of his attention to the bond while using his laptop to research how to secure Erik's release as soon as possible. He's not sure what he would have done if he'd felt fear or even uneasiness from Erik, but throughout the night, Charles felt nothing but the steady simmer of Erik's resentment.

As he walks into the townhouse, he hears Raven barreling down the stairs, excitement and hope running through her. It's a good thing she gave him permission recently to read her moods-- he didn't want to take her up on it, but after meeting Erik, his ability has grown stronger still, and he's not accustomed to this level of power. His shields aren't quite up to blocking everything out, his head throbbing with the effort.

Her hope and enthusiasm hurt almost as badly as his headache. Charles flinches, but Raven's mood quickly shifts to sympathy and worry. She steps forward and hugs him.

"Should I ask?"

Gently, Charles takes her by the hand and untangles himself from her embrace, shaking his head. "No."

He heads upstairs, unpacks, all mechanical, just his body making motions, his mind still in Pittsburgh.

When he checks the bottle in the medicine cabinet, he finds he's nearly out of Psilavon altogether, and he hesitates as he looks at the label. No refills. The pharmacy could call his physician, but...

He ends up making an appointment. His physician can see him Monday at three. He has enough Psilavon to last until then.

* * *

**September 13, 2008**

"You took the plea bargain? Oh, thank God, someone managed to talk sense into you." Jason sighs. His image is slightly blurred on Erik's laptop screen, but Erik can't have this conversation over the phone. Erik's not sure he can have this conversation at all; talking about the protest and the arrest and the arraignment are all just filler, delaying tactics until he finds the words.

"There are still a half-dozen of us who are taking it all the way to trial," Erik says. "I just needed it to be over sooner than that."

"What'd you end up with? Fine, community service?"

"Yes, and yes."

"Could be worse." Jason leans toward his laptop, as if he can get close to Erik that way. "Are you all right? A night in jail wasn't too bad?"

"I was fine." Though he still wonders what his _soulmate_ thought of that. What Charles felt, when Erik spent a sleepless night in jail only to find out that Charles was paying for his legal aid. He sits back, rubs at his face. "Something happened, though. At the protest."

"What do you mean, something happened? What happened?"

"I met..." Jason isn't going to believe it. Erik wouldn't have believed it, if he hadn't seen Charles with his own eyes, felt Charles under his hands. "I met _him_." He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a rush. "I met my soulmate. The real one. He was at the protest. He was there."

Jason doesn't say anything at first, just watching Erik as Erik rubs his face again, sits back in his desk chair. "Where is he now?" Jason asks, finally.

"Manhattan."

"That doesn't sound good."

"He didn't want to stay." Erik closes his eyes and tries to focus on the bond, sends his thoughts out the way he's done all these years. «I know you're out there. Can you hear me? All that, and you left me... you fucking _left_ me. I'm that damaged? I'm not good enough for you? _Fuck you_ , Charles. I know you're out there. Fuck you.»

When he got home from jail, he didn't put the windcatcher back on his wrist. It's still on top of his dresser, where he left it two days ago when he walked out the door. It was one thing to wear it every day as a tribute to a soulmate he thought was dead, one he thought he'd always love. It means something different now that the windcatcher is a symbol of a real living person, a man who's sent Erik's heart, mind, and soul into a tailspin since showing up.

Wearing it now would feel too much like being collared. Erik has no idea whether he'll ever even see Charles again. Maybe he will, someday, but that doesn't mean Charles would want Erik wearing his collar now. And even if he might want that, Erik isn't ready to wear _anyone's_ collar yet. Maybe not ever again. So the windcatcher's on his dresser, still. Erik should probably find something a little more secure to put it in; he doesn't want it getting lost.

"Are you going to try to see him again?"

"I don't know." Erik shakes his head. "He bailed me out of jail."

"He what?"

"He bailed everyone out of jail. He's paying for legal counsel for everyone who was at the protest."

"Whoa." Jason blinks. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"Charles Xavier."

"Xavier... oh, Jesus. Xavier Foundation. I've heard of him. I've missed about a half-dozen invitations to New York fundraisers with his name on them. Or his father's name, or somebody's name. He's big with the New York mutant set."

It shouldn't make Erik's heart start beating faster-- there's a huge difference between someone who can just throw money at a problem and someone who's willing to donate time, to give parts of _emself_ \-- but it does, all the same. His soulmate's a mutant, and his soulmate cares about the mutant community.

It also makes him ache, though, because-- half a dozen missed opportunities to meet him. If he hadn't put Jason off about New York, if Jason had gotten involved with the Xavier Foundation... how close have they been, all these years? How often have they come close to crossing paths? Charles went to university in Boston. How many Thanksgivings has Erik spent in Boston, with Jason's family?

"Erik? Hey--" Jason waves his hand over the camera, his palm flashing back and forth across the screen. "Erik. Are you all right?"

"I don't know."

"Do you need me to get out there?"

"No, I'm-- no." Erik dries his palms off on his thighs. "I'll be okay on my own. It's just... unexpected."

"No shit. So where the hell's he been? Why didn't he ever come after you?"

"He couldn't feel me until Sebastian died. He thought I was blocking him." Even now, Erik still can't believe that. _Blocking_ him, after everything they meant to each other. "So he came out, asked for an explanation... I gave it to him. I was right, you know. I was right all along. He was... he _is_ a telepath. So I just..." He touches his temple, the way Charles touched his, and shrugs. "It was fast. And then he left." But he stuck around long enough to see everyone being arrested, long enough to make arrangements to pay for bail and legal aid. Just not long enough to see Erik again.

«Fuck you,» Erik thinks again. «I can't believe I waited all those years for that.» But it doesn't last; the anger burns white hot, and burns out. If Charles can feel Erik's emotions through the bond, he can feel that flare of rage, and the resentment after; he can feel the unclaimed ache of longing, too. After he and Jason sign off, Erik stretches out across his couch and throws an arm over his face, trying to feel something from the bond. _Anything_. Charles is east, Erik knows now. Nearly due east. Close, so close, but Erik can't feel a thing.

* * *

**September 16, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**! You have [4] new friend requests!

 _Friend request accepted:_ **Xi'an Coy Manh**  
 _Friend request accepted:_ **Jason Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request accepted:_ **Rahne Sinclair**  
 _Friend request accepted:_ **Sam Guthrie**

 _Status updated:_ I'm taking some medication that's affecting my ability, so please keep that in mind if I seem to behave strangely, or rather, strangely in a different way to usual. Dinner with Angel and Janos tonight, see you at 7.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Jason Wyngarde**! You have [1] new notification!

 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Charles Xavier**

_Status updates, **Charles Xavier** :_

**9/16/2008:** I'm taking some medication that's affecting my ability, so please keep that in mind if I seem to behave strangely, or rather, strangely in a different way to usual. Dinner with Angel and Janos tonight, see you at 7.

 **9/15/2008:** Found an excellent article today discussing "the dos and don'ts of unoriented partnerships." Avoid the comments if you choose to read: http://www.u-and-me.com/2007/01/20/do-this-not-that.php  
→ _Raven Darkholme:_ WHY DID I LOOK  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ You tell me! I warned you...  
→ View all 17 comments

 **9/14/2008:** Will be back in class on Monday. Thanks again to Angel and Danielle for covering my classes last week.  
→ _Angel Salvadore:_ No problem. I'm just banking those favors for February. Welcome back!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ I'll be happy to make it up to you then.  
→ View all 9 comments

 **9/13/2008:** Just so everyone knows, a Get Well Soon singing telegram with a chorus of tubaists has not been proven to have any health benefits whatsoever, regardless of the illness in question.  
→ _Tony Stark:_ I'll have you know that I've gotten results with those tubaists at LEAST four times.  
→ _Tony Stark:_ Wait, did you have them actually PLAY those tubas?  
→ View all 7 comments

 **9/12/2008:** Back in Manhattan, but I'm feeling under the weather. I may have to cancel a few engagements. Please bear with me.  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Hope your trip was okay, other than being sick! See you soon!  
→ _Moira McTaggart:_ Feel better, Charles!  
→ View all 12 comments

 **9/11/2008:** Still in Pittsburgh. Expect to be back tomorrow.  
→ _Raven Darkholme:_ Because a text was too much trouble?  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ Hey, you weren't anywhere near the MFMR rally, were you? Heard there were some arrests, it made the news. Be safe!  
→ View all 4 comments

 **9/10/2008:** Taking a day trip to Pittsburgh.  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ Pittsburgh, really? What for?  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ I'm hoping to meet someone important. Keeping the details to myself for now. :)

* * *

**September 18, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Jason Wyngarde**!

_Status updates, **Charles Xavier** :_

**9/18/2008:** First quiz of the semester tomorrow. Let's hope my C102 students all do well. It would certainly make marking easier!  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Hey, what the hell are you taking anyway? You didn't look so good last night. We're kind of worried here.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Psychitrex, for headaches, but it has additional effects. I'm sorry, I probably should've rescheduled with you, but it was good to see you. I hope I didn't do anything too ridiculous. Give my love to Armando.

\---

"Holy shit," Jason says, looking over Erik's dining room table. "You made all that since last week?"

"It isn't much." Erik runs a hand over the jewelry he's been making lately, all with sterling silver. "But it's mine."

His ability has been coming back bit by bit since June, and he had enough by the time of the protest to pull people away from each other. Until now, though, it's mostly been brute force and lifting heavy weights-- his gym membership's been seeing a lot more use lately.

Since last week, though-- since meeting Charles-- he's been able to do fine detail work again, starting with coils of heavy-gauge silver wire that he shapes into rings with his ability, rings that he assembles into jewelry with careful application of his power. It's much easier than doing it with pairs of pliers, and he's been sealing every ring as he goes, making each piece completely seamless.

"Screw 'it isn't much', it's fantastic." Jason rubs Erik's back, high up, between the shoulderblades; Erik exhales and lets Jason ease the tension out of him. "It's you. I love it. You should make a website or something, put some pictures up."

"I could use the equipment at the store if I wanted to take photographs," Erik agrees, but just as quickly he's shaking his head. "But there's not much point. I wasn't planning on selling these things, they're only here for practice."

"You should take pictures anyway," Jason argues. "Something you could send to my mom. Or my aunt Susan and uncle Chris, they'd love to see your metalwork."

"How are they?"

"Got their hands full. Ben's mutation is pretty much fully-manifested at this point."

"He's young for that. Six..."

"Young, but it's not like we weren't younger. And in his case, at least they can see right away what he's doing..."

Erik can't help smiling. "Are they still covering the floors with beanbags?"

"Yeah, although I don't think he's slipped for a good two, three months. Still. Sticking to walls? He's going to scare the crap out of them as he gets older. And if they let him off the leash somewhere like Washington-- I mean, for real, that monument looks made for a climber."

 _I wonder if Charles wanted children,_ Erik thinks, his heart and his bond all wrapped up in the image of Charles, seen so briefly, holding a child. For a moment, the image tugs at him, and just as quickly he's forcing it out of mind, anger and resentment bubbling up to replace it. _You don't want anything from me. That's fine. I don't want anything from you, either._

Jason glances up at him, eyebrow raised. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Erik snaps. One of the bracelets on the table jumps; he steps away, grimacing. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About him," Jason fills in. "Give yourself a break. It's been what, a week? A little over a week? Of course you're still thinking about him."

"I sent him a letter," Erik says quietly.

"Yeah?" Jason sounds cautious as he says, "That could be a good thing..."

"And a check."

"Uh..." Question marks pop up in the air. "I don't think this Xavier guy's hurting for funds, Erik."

"For my bail. I told you he paid for it. I don't want to owe him anything."

"Doesn't the court refund that?"

"Sort of." Erik's mouth twists. "They took my fine out of it. Better to just send him a check for it, it's not like I can't afford it nowadays."

Jason heads over to the couch and takes a seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're really serious about cutting ties, then, huh? I mean, sending him a check-- hell of a message there."

"It wasn't much of a reunion," Erik says quietly. He sits down next to Jason, and if Jason's a little stiff, fuck it; Erik leans on him anyway. Jason quickly uncrosses his arms and wraps one around Erik's shoulders. "I told you he's a telepath, right?"

"Yeah," Jason says, scratching his fingers through the short fuzz of Erik's hair. Erik needs to buzz it down again, but he hasn't gotten around to it.

"I finally got to hear him. In my head." He closes his eyes, remembering how that felt. The first words he heard from his soulmate, after eight long years of absence: _It's me, yes._

And then he was gone. Gone all over again, but this time by choice-- Charles's choice.

"Was that..." Jason takes a deep breath, scratches Erik's head again. Erik turns into that touch; it feels good. It feels very, very good. "Was that... okay with you?"

"Don't stop," Erik murmurs, turning his face so it's pressed to the side of Jason's neck. "A little harder. Please..."

"Hey." Jason takes his hand off Erik's head altogether, eases gently away. "I thought we weren't doing this kind of thing right now."

Erik scoots back to the other end of the couch. "Sorry." He passes a hand over his face; the impulse to pass it over his _head_ , in the traditional submissive-getting-above-emself gesture, comes out of nowhere and startles him. It'd startle Jason more if he did it, so he puts both hands in his lap and stares down at them. "I just... _now_ I miss it."

"We could... try going out again," Jason hedges, but Erik's shaking his head even as Jason says it, and he doesn't miss the relieved expression that comes over Jason's face when he does.

"I don't think it would go any better than the last time we tried it." Erik sighs and tips his head back, leans it against the couch cushions. "What were you saying? Before I started, ah..."

"Before that, right," Jason says. He clears his throat, and when Erik doesn't move, tosses a towel over his face. It's illusionary, which explains why it smells like fresh detergent instead of... Erik would really rather not think about what the towels littering his apartment probably smell like. "Stop showing throat, come on. I'm not a total fucking monk, Erik, it's going to get to me eventually."

Erik sits up, towel falling away from him. He throws it back at Jason. "Were we having a conversation or not?"

"Ha. Who was distracting who, here?" He smacks Erik lightly with the towel-- it barely glances off his arm-- but it makes a full-out bullwhip sound. Erik sits up straight despite himself. "Be honest, you deserved that."

"A little," Erik agrees.

"Right. So. Before all this... I was asking about Xavier's telepathy."

"Oh," Erik says. He frowns. "What about it?"

"It was okay with you? That he turned out to be a telepath after all. You said he picked those memories out of your head, that was okay too?"

Erik swallows. He could have listened to that voice all fucking day. He could have listened to that voice for the rest of his life, if Charles hadn't been so quick to leave, if he hadn't come to Erik accusing him of _renouncing._ Renouncing, when Erik fought so damn hard for him. For _them._

_Everything I fought for, and you couldn't even stay in the same city as me for twenty-four hours. Was I another mutant cause? Something to throw money at, and hope it goes away?_

"Because," Jason's going on, "because if it wasn't--" Erik looks at him while Jason figures out what in hell he's trying to say. Jason sighs, giving up. "Forget it."

"No, forget what?"

"You'd never ask another mutant to give up his mutation to be with you. Would you?"

The coffee table shreds itself to pieces, glass surface shattering as the metal legs and frame twist apart. If it had been anyone but his oldest, closest friend, ey'd probably be wearing that coffee table frame right now. Jason doesn't even look surprised; he just kicks his legs out, knocking a few stray shards of glass off his jeans.

Erik shakes his head. "I can't believe you'd even ask me that."

"So that's a 'no, asshole'," Jason declares. "Good to know. I'll get the maid service to pick that up, okay?"

He snaps his fingers, and a scantily-clad sub appears with a hand broom and a dustpan. He gets carefully to his knees and starts sweeping up broken glass, and Erik rolls his eyes.

"It would have to be a mostly-naked _sub,"_ Erik says. "You don't have any doms in your mental harem?"

"Because an illusionary dom is going to do you so much good right now," Jason fires back, but just like that the sub's gone, replaced by a dom with black hair, buzzed down much like Erik's, nice broad muscles, and a deep bronze suntan. He's wearing leather pants and boots, and he's cleaning up the glass just like the last one was, but Erik has to admit he's having a hell of a lot more fun looking at him than he was looking at the illusionary sub.

"Yeahhhhh," Jason says, shaking his head. "Okay, even if it's not me, and not the clubs, you need to figure out a way to have some nice no-strings basic."

"I'm a little out of practice with that."

"It'll come back to you," Jason says. "Trust me, it'll come back to you."

There's only one thing Erik wants to come back to him right now, but it doesn't seem very likely. Erik watches Jason's illusionary dom finish cleaning up, and lifts the twisted wreckage of the coffee table frame, considering it.

"I think I'll get some sheet metal for this tomorrow," he says, reaching both hands out and re-straightening the legs. "Maybe I could make my own this time."

* * *

**September 19, 2008**

It's been an exhausting day. Just once, Charles would like to give his first quiz to a Concordance 102 class without having someone posit that switches can't exist, because someone in a relationship with a dominant is a submissive by default, or that safewording always represents a failure on the part of someone in the scene. He's not really looking forward to marking those quizzes, but at least he only gave them five short-answer questions. Maybe most of them did all right.

He's more or less adjusted to having Psychitrex in his system, too. It's a little strange-- no, all right, it's _very_ strange, like wearing a gauze mask all the time and trying to see through it. But they've sorted his dosage now, and he's left with enough ability to function. He can still sense people enough to be certain they're there, not mirages the way they seemed to be at first, and he can read moods, though now it takes a bit of exertion to pick them up. And he and Raven have tested it: he can still send and receive thoughts. Only with a significant effort, unless the other person is projecting, but he can still do it. It helps.

More importantly, there's no temptation to use his increased ability when it's battened down like this. He won't hurt anyone else the way he hurt Erik; he won't hurt Erik again. On this dosage he'd have to be physically near Erik to send thoughts to him. Which doesn't look likely to happen any time soon.

When he gets home, he scoops up the mail from the floor and piles most of it on the table by the front door. The junk mail gets sorted into one pile, Raven's postcards and letters and magazines into another, and the third pile is mail for Charles. There's a new Annals of Human Genetics, an event invitation from MEOI, and one other letter, which makes Charles go still, staring down at it.

The ink is a dark grey that seems to glint in the light; it spells out "Charles Xavier" and his Manhattan address in slanted block letters. The return address is a simple label for Helix Mutant Youth Center, but the postmark is Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

He stands there staring at the envelope for several seconds, wondering if his hands are touching the paper in the same place Erik's did, when he addressed it. And then he quickly shakes his head, tearing open the envelope; for all he knows, it's really from Helix, and Erik had nothing to do with it.

Out of the envelope, he draws a single piece of paper and a check. The check _is_ from Erik; it's marked "Erik Lehnsherr" on top, with a post office box for an address. There's no telephone number. Erik's signature is as aggressive as the lettering on the front of the envelope.

The check confuses Charles, until he works it out in his head: it's for the amount of Erik's bail. Charles quickly opens up the letter and holds his breath, reading it.

> Charles,
> 
> I don't need your guilt money.
> 
> On behalf of my friends and colleagues, though, you have my thanks. Your funds may be tied up in government red tape for some time; those of us who actually needed to be released on bail rather than on our own recognizance are in the process of taking plea bargains or preparing for trial. I've heard you retained a local lawyer to keep you apprised of the situation. I'm glad to hear it.
> 
> I suppose "glad" isn't the right word for how I felt when I met you in person. It was a relief to find out what had happened to you, that you were safe. I hope you have the answers you needed as well, now.
> 
> Take care.
> 
> \--Erik

The first line leaves Charles feeling like he's taken an unexpected hard blow to the stomach. He can only take in the rest of it through a numb haze. Staring down at the letter, Charles finds himself observing things about it: Erik's ink, dark and shining, metallic. His handwriting, the fierce, slashing words across the page. No phone number. No home address. No email address. No offer to get in touch, no way to reach him.

_Take care._

Charles folds up the letter and the check, puts them back in the envelope, folds the envelope as well, and slides it into his inner jacket pocket.

That's it, then.

It's over.

* * *

**October 2008**

There's a thick envelope jammed into Erik's mailbox; he doesn't bother with the key as he locks the mailbox back up, his ability well past the point where he can manage little things like pins and tumblers again. The envelope might be from one of his mutant rights organizations, he supposes, and as he heads up the stairs to his floor, he sorts through the rest of the mail.

Bills, junk, coupons, a postcard from Jason from Vancouver... he lets himself into his apartment and sets everything down, holding onto that thick envelope. It has a New York postmark and a return address from a law firm, and when Erik opens it, he has to lean heavily against the kitchen counter, staring down at all the paperwork.

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, dated 10/2/2008]_
> 
> Charles,
> 
> I received the letter from your law firm today. I don't know what to do with it. The paperwork all identifies me as your bondmate, but we barely had the chance to speak.
> 
> Frankly, I'm not sure whether I appreciate the sentiment, or whether I'm insulted. I have no idea what you want from me, if anything.
> 
> You said you were in a coma, that you needed time to recover, that not everything came back. I'm sorry. I lost a great deal, too. I wish things had been different.
> 
> \--Erik

\---

Charles recognizes the handwriting this time, and he heads upstairs to his study before opening the letter.

It's brief and to the point, but the last few lines send Charles right back to tears. He's been in tears so often these past few weeks, ridiculous as it is. He's found his answers. The eight-year mystery's been solved. Every day now he expects to feel the awful fade of Erik truly renouncing the bond, this time. He has every reason in the world, every right.

Charles stares at the phrase _I wish things had been different_ , looking at the address Erik left him-- his, this time, not Helix-- and wondering if he should write back.

_I wish things had been different._

He calls his law firm, and he's not surprised to hear that Erik hasn't sent in the paperwork claiming his inheritance. Having the answers, it turns out, isn't resolving anything for anyone.

Maybe he should leave these wounds alone, stop poking at the scars.

He writes back anyway.

\---

> _[Letter to Erik Lehnsherr, dated 10/6/2008]_
> 
> Charles F. Xavier § 124 E 66th Street § New York, NY 10065 USA § 646-555-0298
> 
> Erik,
> 
> Please don't be insulted. My father's will made provisions for my bondmate and my sister's bondmate as well. I'm not trying to pay you off or pretend this can compensate for what you've been through. It always would have been yours, and now that I know your name, I can sign it over to you.
> 
> If it can be useful to you at all, here it is. And if you don't have any use for it, then it's yours to dispose of, however you decide. Keep it, save it, give it to the cause you were protesting for, it's up to you.
> 
> Nothing I can write could possibly express my regret.
> 
> If there is ever anything I can do to help you in any way, I hope you'll allow me to try. If you call on me, I will be there. Otherwise, I'll keep my word and refrain from contacting you directly again.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Charles

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, dated 10/11/2008]_
> 
> Charles,
> 
> I'm thinking about it. What do with it. I don't know.
> 
> I didn't ask you for that promise. If you don't plan to stay in touch, then that's your call. Don't pretend it's for my sake.
> 
> \--Erik

\---

> _[Letter to Erik Lehnsherr, dated 10/14/2008]_
> 
> Charles F. Xavier § 124 E 66th Street § New York, NY 10065 USA § 646-555-0298
> 
> Erik,
> 
> If it's up to me, of course I would rather keep in contact. Though I really don't know what more I can say, but that I'm sorry.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Charles
> 
> cfxavier@elion.cuny.edu
> 
> mobile: 646-555-6129

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, written over the latter half of October, 2008]_
> 
> Charles,
> 
> I still can't feel you through the bond; you said that you could feel me, but I can't feel you. And yet I know you're out there.

\---

Some days he can stand it. He wakes up and showers and doesn't think about it for a few hours, or when he does think about it, it doesn't consume him. Other days, he wakes up with tears streaking his face, calling out so loudly he can almost hear the jangling echo of his thoughts in his own mind. «Are you out there? Can you hear me? You spent eight years believing I'd left you, eight years thinking I'd betrayed you... will you ever forgive me for that? Because I'm not going to beg for that. I won't come begging, do you hear me? _Do you hear me?_ Can you hear me... Charles... _Charles_... please...»

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, written over the latter half of October, 2008, continued]_
> 
> Maybe this was easier for you. Maybe this was all the closure you needed. I can tell you, if you wonder, that I'm safe now. I haven't submitted to anyone, not with forethought and intent, in three years. I haven't had an emfriend in six years. My best friend and I scene on a platonic basis now and then; it's about pain work and not sex, we're not involved. I don't have anyone.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Jason Wyngarde**!

_Status updates, **Charles Xavier** :_

**10/23/2008:** Today's 201 lecture is on The Submissive Mystique. Bring your texts and your pencils to class... in other news, MADL conference call at 5, dinner with Armando and Alex at 7. Have a good day!  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Woohoo! I vote burgers.  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ You always vote burgers.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I vote for the three of you visiting me? I am in Vancouver this week! There is poutine!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Hey, I'm in Vancouver. Uh, hi, Charles, nice to "meet" you, we keep not running into each other at charity shindigs. Anyway, Kurt, let me know if you need a poutine buddy, I've been in Vancouver for work a lot. I know where some of the best hole-in-the-wall places are.

You have [1] new friend request!

 _Friend request accepted:_ **Kurt Wagner**

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, written over the latter half of October, 2008, continued]_
> 
> I imagine if you tracked me down in Pittsburgh, you know what I do and what I've been doing; any reasonable private investigator could surely have turned up my work records. But it seems like one of the few things I have to tell you, so you might as well hear it from me.
> 
> I worked in jewelry for years. Sales, at first, and later buying and management. You probably gathered my mutation is related to metal; it was one of the few things I felt qualified to do, after missing my last year of high school and obtaining my GED afterwards.
> 
> People usually ask me if I ended up in Pittsburgh because of the steel industry-- which, ironically, was mostly gone by the time I got there-- but I was actually here because of my best friend, Jason Wyngarde. We went to high school together, and then after he graduated he went to school at Carnegie Mellon. His father tried to talk him into Yale, but he wasn't interested. I thought about materials science, briefly, but I didn't have the money for tuition, and being around ferromagnetic metal usually grated on the loss of my ability. Precious metals were easier.
> 
> In the end I never managed a college education, although before our separation, I'd been planning to travel east, take time to seek, and then possibly go into a pre-law program as well as majoring in Mutant Studies. In the interim I took a number of language courses from Allegheny Community College. I'm fluent in several and began tutoring at Helix this fall. I've been volunteering at Helix Mutant Youth Center for years; Jason and I started when he was at school, and I stayed here when he graduated and began looking for work. I don't know how closely you follow mutants in pop culture, but Jason's been steadily getting more work lately and was in a fairly successful movie this past summer, "Hollow Point". Unlike some of the mutant actors Hollywood's been trying to appease us with, Jason's been out since the beginning of his career (technically he's never been "in", when it comes to that) and is a fierce supporter of mutant rights. I'm very proud of him.
> 
> More recently I've been sorting through the remnants of Sebastian's death, the funds he left to me, the assets I inherited. It seems that despite our nearly eight-year separation, Sebastian still left everything to me in his will. Given the damage he caused, I swallowed my pride and elected to take what he left in hopes of making some small reparations to the people he hurt. You and I weren't the only ones. I started by dismantling his little patchwork horror industry, Bound By Choice, and I've divided the proceeds among his victims, for their care and rehabilitation. It looks as if what's left of Sebastian's personal fortune will be enough to establish a research center and care facility for victims of the B2C procedure, as well as others with damaged bonds. I'll keep it going for as long as I'm able. If you have no objections, I'd like to use the money from your father's trust to help get that project started.
> 
> You may have guessed that I'm passionately involved in mutant rights. Like many of our people, I'm opposed to the Mutant Registration Act that's currently being discussed in Congress; the protest you interrupted was against that. My grandfather and grandmother lost most of their families in the Holocaust, so I have a very personal stake in keeping vigilant, ensuring that humanity doesn't repeat its own ugly history. Identification, registration... it's a familiar pattern. We can't afford to be quiet, simply accept what humans want to do to us. I plan on doing whatever it takes to ensure mutants don't face that same fate.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**!

_Status updates, **Alex Summers** :_

**10/23/2008:** DID THIS JUST FUCKING HAPPEN [http://fetbook.com/CharlesXavier/status/9287901479183](http://archiveofourown.org/works/534275) **Jason Wyngarde** #KurtGoMeetHim #GetMeAnAutograph #AskIfHeStillKnowsTheRopeTrick  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ Okay, it's official, I let you see Hollow Point too many times.  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ also, bb, you know it notifies people when you tag them in a post, right? And this entry is public...  
→ _Alex Summers:_ WHAT AAAA SHIT  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ And it's not Twitter, either! #YourHashtags #AmuseMe  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ #MeAlso #IHaveADateOnSaturday #:D~

\---

Erik spends a lot of time at the gym these days. It's less to push his body, more because all the iron weights give him a way to gauge the brute-force aspect of his ability. The week before he met Charles it was eight hundred. Two weeks later, nearly twice that.

October 25, he breaks two thousand. He walks home from the gym lightheaded, digging his phone out of his pocket to call Jason.

"Hey," Jason sounds a little breathless. "How's it going? Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. I broke two thousand pounds at the gym today."

"That's fantastic, that's wonderful, congratulations," Jason says warmly. "Listen, can I call you back? I'm kind of..."

"Busy?" Erik asks. "On a Saturday night?"

Jason laughs. "Yeah, well... yeah. I'm out on a date. But if you need me, I can take a raincheck, I can--"

"No, no, God, no--" Erik winces. He's been taking Jason for granted far too long. _Busy? On a Saturday night?_ What a thing to say. Of course Jason's busy. He _should_ be dating. Just because Erik can't go out and can't scene and doesn't really have anyone to share this with, doesn't have anyone who'd understand what it means to him...

The letter to Charles he's been working on is still strewn across his desk when he gets in. He could write this down, finish off the letter, send it.

He has an email address for Charles. Hell, he has a phone number; he has two, landline and mobile. He could call.

And say what? _Hello, Charles, it's Erik. Today I lifted two thousand pounds of solid iron over my head and held it up for fifteen minutes. How was your Saturday? Why did you leave me? Are we really going to send letters talking about inheritances and leftover legal obligations for the rest of our lives, is that all that's left to us now?_

He actually puts Charles's cell phone number into his address book and stares at it for a while, but in the end he shuts the phone off and celebrates with a terrible, clichéd, trashy book. And a long, hot shower once he gets to the good parts. Two months ago, that would have been an exciting Saturday night; now it feels like it's nowhere near enough.

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, written over the latter half of October, 2008, continued]_
> 
> We had so little time to talk, and I know almost nothing about you. It's been eight years, we're both in our mid-twenties; are you married, have you collared anyone?

\---

He needs a few days after he writes that. The metallic ink glints off the paper, _have you collared anyone,_ as if just writing the question means it must be true.

The rest of his letter happens in a hasty scrawl; he can't stand looking at that question anymore, and he's been lingering at this letter too long anyway.

\---

> _[Letter to Charles Xavier, written over the latter half of October, 2008, continued]_
> 
> If so, I wish you all the best ~~, though I~~. Be safe, please.
> 
> Erik
> 
> el.metal@gmail.com
> 
> 878-555-8127

\---

He knows where Charles is, and he falls asleep facing east now. East, like when he was thirteen and fourteen and fifteen.

«I know you're out there. Can you hear me? Are you listening? I can't feel you. I'm trying. Maybe I shouldn't be, but I'm trying. Can you hear me, Charles? Can you?»


	4. Rocky Start (4/9) - 2008.10 & 2008.11

**October 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**! You have [2] new notifications!

 _Relationship status changed:_ **Kurt Wagner** is Dating **Jason Wyngarde**

 _Relationship status changed:_ **Jason Wyngarde** is Dating **Kurt Wagner**

 _Status updated:_ 102 lecture today on RAC vs. SSC practices. Extending office hours to 4pm as a result.  
→ _Tony Stark:_ My favorite! As always, I'm available for private consultations. My office hours are whenever I feel like it.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Tony, you know I adore you, but...

\---

> _[Letter to Erik Lehnsherr, dated 10/30/2008]_
> 
> Charles F. Xavier § 124 E 66th Street § New York, NY 10065 USA § 646-555-0298
> 
> Dear Erik,
> 
> Of course I have no objections to whatever use you make of the trust fund. I'm so sorry to hear that we weren't the only ones hurt by that Shaw and his psychic butchery. I've read everything I could find on him now, his own books included. I can't fathom how anyone could do the things he did. I find myself wondering, was he deluded, did he really convince himself he was doing something positive? Was he profoundly irresponsible or was it malice?
> 
> Not that it matters. The damage done remains the same. If I can do more to help with the reparations, please let me know.
> 
> As to myself, I'm not married, nor have I ever collared anyone. To date my committed relationships haven't lasted. I teach concordance at Elion College, a CUNY school. I enjoy teaching, and I feel my nontraditional point of view isn't as widely represented as I would like, so I welcome the chance to remedy that.
> 
> But my doctorate is actually in genetics. At university I pursued two main areas of interest, X-gene mutation and bond genetics. I trust I needn't explain why, in either case.
> 
> My thesis was on the relationship between the bond and X-gene mutation. Nearly all X-gene positive mutants have bonded parents, and on the balance, most bonded parents with X-gene positive offspring were united over greater than average distances.
> 
> While correlation is not causation, I believe my findings suggest that the bond promotes X-gene mutation, and the increasing rate of X-gene mutation may be ascribed to improvements in communication and transportation technology which allow far-flung bondmates to find one another with greater rates of success. This accounts for the larger populations of X-gene mutants in industrialized areas, and I hope could provide a counter to the disproven and dangerous notion that pollution or radiation or some other 'unnatural' cause is responsible for X-gene mutation. We simply represent a successful and rapidly increasing adaptation. Within a few generations, X-gene mutation could be as common as blue eyes.
> 
> After I finished my thesis I'm afraid I burned out somewhat on research. I picked up a Master's in concordance during my studies, so when the opportunity presented itself to teach in that field instead, I took the job. I'm an adjunct professor, which is academic for 'part time, paid nothing,' but I have the luxury of choosing, rather than needing, to work. The remainder of my time is spent volunteering. My sister Raven is also a mutant, and works in outreach and education. I've taken to accompanying her on some of her school visits to work with young mutants on gaining greater facility with their gifts.
> 
> And then of course there is oversight of the Xavier Foundation, a responsibility my sister and I share. My father was an engineer and a nuclear physicist, and in the course of his work, he invented quite a lot of equipment and procedures for safer and more effective containment and handling of toxic and fissionable materials. Virtually all applications of fissionable materials use his technology. He amassed a sizable fortune in his lifetime, and it was his wish that after his death the money would promote wider education and understanding. He died when I was five; he was working, and an experiment involving pyrophoric chemicals in a neighboring lab caused an explosion. I'm told it was instant.
> 
> My father encouraged me to practice and extend my ability in order to gain greater control over it, counter to advice he received to isolate me and discourage me from employing telepathy. While my judgement in using it has been deeply misguided, I still believe he was right in his approach to my early education: that practice is the key to control, and that, as a matter of philosophy, we should use and embrace our gifts.
> 
> When he first took interest in mutant education, my father began the process of adopting my sister from foster care. By the time the adoption was finalized, he had passed, and not long after Raven joined our family, my mother remarried. Unfortunately I don't get along with my stepfather and stepbrother, not least because they resent the dispensation of my father's estate. But Raven and I are quite close, and we share a townhouse now.
> 
> I'm sorry for the losses in your own family, the painful history and the more recent bereavements.
> 
> I understand the urgency and strength of your concern about the MRA and I appreciate the depth of your commitment to opposing it. Public protests against abhorrent legislation like the MRA are valiant and necessary. But if it will ease your mind at all, the current iteration of the MRA won't make it out of committee, nor was it ever intended to. Rep. McDaniel floated it to block consideration of an immigration reform bill that provides an easier path to naturalization for most "illegal" immigrants. That bill's prospects are good, and being part of a committee that put it on the floor would damage his standing with voters in his home state of Arkansas.
> 
> Rep. McDaniel is using Byzantine congressional procedures to force the committee to deal in full with the MRA proposal before they can promote the immigration bill, knowing that the legislative session will end before they can dispense with the MRA and move on. But in the meantime, MADL lobbyists have received guarantees from the other committee members that they won't allow the MRA to be sent to the floor.
> 
> Which is not to discount the importance of the MFMR protest. It's thanks to that sort of direct action that the MRA continues to be politically poisonous. Without that countervailing pressure, the threat of registration would be greater.
> 
> Mutant civil rights are of course a cause I deeply believe in as well. In my father's memory, as well as of my own accord, my particular focus has been on education: primarily, educating mutants about ourselves and our abilities, but also teaching baseline humans that our differences are nothing to fear.
> 
> In your letter, you wondered if finding answers has made things easier for me, if learning the truth provided any closure. None of this has been easy, to say the least. And I don't imagine closure will be coming in this lifetime. Nor am I reaching for that, if I'm honest. Some things should never be forgotten, or finished.
> 
> You also wished me well, which is more grace than I deserve, considering my behavior at that disastrous first meeting. I will always regret that, and so many other mistakes I have made. I know I can't presume to ask your forgiveness, but I hope it may come someday, all the same.
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Charles

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**!

 _Status updated:_ I'll be at the MEOI Halloween charity ball tonight, but I may not stay long, I'm afraid I'm not in much of a party mood. Who else is going?  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Us, duh.  
→ _Tony Stark:_ Ooh, does this mean I can whisky ou away?  
→ _Angel Salvadore:_ Janos and I are planning to attend.  
→ _Raven Darkholme:_ Of course I'll be there.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ If I am able to pry myself away from my new emfriend I will also go. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to introduce everyone? :D~?  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Jason says there is a party at Helix in Pittsburgh and he is promised to attend as a chaperone. So I will not be able to bamf him to New York after all. :(~ Hopefully I will still be able to visit for a little while!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Alex, see you there. Tony, sorry, not this time. Angel, I'll see you and Janos as well. Raven, I've arranged for a car at 7:15. Kurt, hope to see you; if not this time, sometime soon. Be safe and have a good night, everybody. :)

* * *

**November 2, 2008**

Charles and Raven are out to dinner when Charles's mobile phone bleeps out its "text message received" sound. It's more than that, though, it's the chime Charles associated with Erik's phone number, though of course they've never called or texted each other. Charles hasn't been foolish enough to assume that Erik giving him his phone number was permission to initiate contact that way; he expects if Erik wants Charles to call him, he'll say.

But he still fumbles his phone out of his pocket as quickly as he can, dragging his finger across the screen in a shaky line to unlock it. He stabs the icon for his messaging app, and Erik's message pops onto the screen.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Fuck you.]

"What?" Raven asks. Charles slumps back against his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. It's ridiculous that two words can hurt this much, but his eyes sting and his chest aches, and he feels something vibrating through the bond: anger, annoyance. And worry. Maybe he's afraid Charles will text back.

\---

 _"Are you fucking kidding me,"_ Erik says, forehead propped on his hand. He can't believe what he's seeing on his cell phone screen. He glances up at Jason and then back down at his phone, but no, the words are still there, what Jason tapped out after swiping the phone out of Erik's hand with an exasperated snort.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Fuck you.]

"You've been looking at his number all night. And you've been thinking it for weeks," Jason argues. "He's a telepath. If you were in the same place, he'd know anyway!"

"I haven't been thinking 'Fuck you' for weeks," Erik fires back. "It's different, he's... he wrote, we've been writing..."

"Yeah, last time I checked he sent you a bunch of legal paperwork about some kind of trust fund and didn't even have the decency to put in a note."

"You've missed a bit." Erik swipes his finger across the screen and starts typing a message to Charles. "Not that I begrudge you your time with Kurt, but I wasn't staring at Charles's phone number because I wanted to tell him to fuck off."

"No?" Jason raises an eyebrow. "What _do_ you want to tell him?"

\---

"Jesus, _what_?" Raven asks, snatching his mobile out of his hand. "What the fuck... oh my God, no, he did _not_ just tell you to fuck off by _text_."

"Maybe something happened," Charles says. "The letters he wrote were calmer." His stomach lurches. "Possibly something in my letter back set him off." His plea for forgiveness, perhaps. He should have known that was a bridge too far.

His phone bleeps again. "Another one," Raven says, and of course she reads it off the screen, because naturally he wants to hear it out loud, infused with her anger. "'I'm sorry. Not that this sounds remotely believable'-- ha ha, no, it really doesn't, asshole-- 'but that wasn't from me, that was my friend stealing my phone and attempting to be funny. I'm not laughing.'"

"If that's what he says happened, that's what happened." Raven shoots Charles an outraged look, but Charles doesn't have the energy to argue; he tells her flatly, "I read him when I was there. I feel regret from him right now. I'm certain."

"Maybe you missed something," Raven scoffs, but she hands the phone back to him anyway. Charles stares down at Erik's second message for a long time, hoping he's right and that Erik is telling the truth.

\---

Hours later, Erik still isn't over it. Charles texted back one word-- [Understood.] -- and Erik's heart rate shot through the roof. That could mean anything. It could mean "Fuck you back." It could mean "I don't believe you."

It could really mean "I understand," but Erik doubts it. No one could just say "Understood" in response to a pair of texts like that. Erik couldn't.

"What is with you tonight?" Jason asks, finally, tipping his king over. He waves a hand over the pieces and sets up a new board; Erik pulls a coin off the coffee table with his ability and flips it. It comes up heads; Jason rotates the board so white faces him. He takes the first move; Erik counters it.

"Erik," Jason tries again, a few moves later. "Erik, come on. You were staring at that goddamned phone number for hours, I couldn't just watch you like that--"

"You don't fucking speak for me," Erik bursts out. "Not like that, not ever. You didn't even ask. You don't know."

Jason puts up both hands in an immediate gesture of surrender. "Absolutely. You're right. I was wrong. It won't happen again."

"Good."

"But if and when I meet the motherfucker in person, I'm not shutting up, either."

Erik glares at Jason for a while, but finally concedes, "That's fair. When you meet him in person, you can say whatever you want."

When, not if. It's ridiculous; Erik doesn't even know if he's going to see Charles again himself. But... somehow he's kept thinking of it as something that's bound to happen eventually. Down the road sometime. They'd find a way to make it happen. They'd find common ground. Someday...

After Jason leaves for the night-- meeting up with Kurt, and if Erik were feeling better, he'd let Kurt teleport in to pick Jason up instead of having Jason head outside first-- Erik turns in early. He holds his phone for a long time, staring at the three-message exchange.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Fuck you.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I'm sorry. Not that this sounds remotely believable, but that wasn't from me, that was my friend stealing my phone and attempting to be funny. I'm not laughing.]  
 **Charles Xavier:** [Understood.]

In the end he can't stand it, and he texts Charles back.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I'm sorry. Again.]

It doesn't seem like enough. He tries a little harder with the next one.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [It's really bothering me, thinking of you getting that text from Jason. It's not how I would have wanted to open conversation.]

And then it's a matter of deciding whether to stay up, hoping Charles is still awake, hoping he'll respond... or not.

Sometimes he really envies the lives of people in those books of his, more than he used to, even. Having his true bond back is complicated beyond anything he'd ever imagined.

\---

Marking papers has been a good use of Charles's time tonight. It hasn't kept his mind off the exchange he had with Erik-- and Erik's friend-- earlier on. But he wasn't going to be thinking about much else in any event, so at least he's got some work done.

He replied to Erik's explanation and moments later felt a bolt of dismay through the bond, so he thought better of elaborating. It didn't feel as if Erik was ready to hear from him with that sort of immediacy. Since then, he's received fluctuating unhappiness from Erik, spiked with occasional brighter emotions, erupting into turmoil briefly now and then.

When his phone alerts him to yet another text message, Charles puts his pen down, slips his reading glasses off, and rubs his face for a few seconds, trying to compose himself. When he's as braced as he can get, he looks at the message.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [It's really bothering me, thinking of you getting that text from Jason. It's not how I would have wanted to open conversation.]

 _How did you want to open it?_ Charles can only wonder. But the back of his head is tingling. Erik is reaching out to him, despite everything.

He focuses on their bond, breathing in deeply, remembering all the techniques he and Jean developed to help him concentrate on Erik, Erik's feelings, where Erik is...

Erik feels... sad. Worried. Wistful...? Maybe there's some hope in the mix, too. Charles sends him a text message in return.

 **Charles Xavier:** [Consider the slate wiped clean, then. We can start over.]

And as soon as he hits "send", he drops his forehead into his hand, groaning. For God's sake, what an obvious, ludicrous slip. Of course he'd like to pretend they could start over, forget everything that came before, all the ways he hurt Erik and failed him. But even if that were possible, it wouldn't be up to him. He taps out another message as quickly as he can.

 **Charles Xavier:** [I'm sorry, that was poorly phrased. I only meant, if you want those earlier texts to be disregarded, it's done.]

For quite a while, there's nothing. But just when Charles has resolved to put his phone away, or even turn it off, it beeps again.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I still can't feel you. I'm sorry.]

Charles sighs. Text messages are even more opaque than phone conversations, and the phone is worse than a conversation with someone who won't let Charles read eir moods... this feels at several removes from a conversation that Charles would stand a chance of being able to learn something from, and yet...

And yet. What he felt coming through the bond when he received the last of those texts really was sorrow, regret. And now he's feeling nervousness, and that _is_ hope, even if it's dampened by grim pessimism. Charles is certain of it now. This conversation isn't over, or at least... Erik doesn't want it to be over.

That's good enough for Charles.

 **Charles Xavier** : [I still feel you. You said on the bus that I should block you, if that's what I want. That's not what I want. But I'm aware that when this sort of communication is one-way only, it can be distressing... I don't want to cause you more pain.]

Surprise from the bond, now, and Erik quickly replies.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [You haven't.]

Anticipation. Something deeper, maybe. Charles waits for more, but there's nothing. There's little enough he can say in response.

 **Charles Xavier** : [I'm glad of that.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Is there a reason you're texting instead of phoning|]

He deletes the question without sending it. He wonders what else to add, but eventually Erik's end of the bond goes quiet-- not gone, thank God, just quiet. Relaxed, calm, peaceful... maybe Erik's gone to bed.

Charles rubs at his temples. Maybe someday they'll know what to say to one another, but he isn't surprised that the time has yet to come.

* * *

**November 6, 2008**

Erik stays in bed longer than he should. It's Thursday; he'll need to get up eventually. He has tutoring sessions in the afternoon, and he should pick up around the apartment; he and Jason and Kurt are finally getting together as a trio tomorrow.

But instead of climbing out of bed, he ends up staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts fixed east.

November 6th. He looked it up, but he wonders if he might have known anyway, if maybe bond intuition would have clued him in now that he and Charles have come face-to-face. It's Charles's birthday. Charles is twenty-five, today. And Erik's missing it.

He can't feel anything through their bond. Maybe Charles is sleeping in. Maybe he's teaching. Maybe he's already celebrating. He isn't married, hasn't collared anyone-- Erik aches, thinking about that, angry with himself for being relieved and grateful-- but he might be out with friends, might go out later tonight and scene.

If he could feel Charles, he could share that much, at least. Charles's moods, his emotions. Maybe he'd even know if Charles was thinking about him.

«I want you to be safe... be well... be _happy_ ,» he thinks, focusing that sensation of hope at his bond, with as much happiness as he can muster. But his feelings about Charles are complicated. There's regret in them, anger, loss, envy.

He pulls up their recent text conversation again and looks at it for a while.

 **Charles Xavier:** [Consider the slate wiped clean, then. We can start over.]  
 **Charles Xavier:** [I'm sorry, that was poorly phrased. I only meant, if you want those earlier texts to be disregarded, it's done.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I still can't feel you. I'm sorry.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [I still feel you. You said on the bus that I should block you, if that's what I want. That's not what I want. But I'm aware that when this sort of communication is one-way only, it can be distressing... I don't want to cause you more pain.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [You haven't.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [I'm glad of that.]

It's no effort to reach for his windcatcher-- still on top of his dresser, where it's been since early September-- and draw it over. He doesn't put it on, but he winds the chain around his fingers and spins the rings around and around.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Is it all right for me to wish you a happy birthday?]

It feels like a catch-22 as soon as he sends the message, like the classic "May I ask you a question?" question. If it isn't all right, the damage is done. Maybe Charles didn't want to hear from him at all today.

 **Charles Xavier:** [It's very kind of you. Thank you. You're welcome to contact me whenever you like, it doesn't have to be an occasion.]

Erik takes a deep breath at that, chest tight with relief.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I've been thinking of you. I don't know if you can feel it. I still can't feel anything from you.]

He leaves out _I wish I could_. It seems like too much to say, somehow.

 **Charles Xavier:** [I feel you, but I didn't realize you were thinking about me. It's good to know that. Thank you for telling me.]

 _It's good to know that._ Erik's windcatcher spins, and spins, and spins, and Erik brings it close to his chest, just holding it, feeling the metal vibrate against his skin.

* * *

**November 7, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**! You have [2] new notifications!

 _Relationship status changed:_ **Kurt Wagner** is In A Relationship With **Jason Wyngarde**

 _Relationship status changed:_ **Jason Wyngarde** is In A Relationship With **Kurt Wagner**

 _Status updated:_ Thank you for all the birthday wishes yesterday. As for today, another day, another C102 lecture. Today's topic: Safeword Myths. I printed out bingo cards; we'll see if that makes an effective teaching tool. Dinner with Alex and Armando tonight at 8pm.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Happy belated birthday! Sorry I missed it on the day.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ That's quite all right, I see from your relationship status that you've been busy! ;)  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ :D~  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ We might run a tiny bit late for dinner... go ahead and take the table without us.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Will do!  
→ _Janos Quested:_ ¡Feliz cumpleaños aunque sea un poco tarde!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Gracias :)  
→ _Moira McTaggart:_ You have to stop aging, Charles, you're starting to make me feel old! Like Sean doesn't do that enough already...  
→ View all 34 comments

\---

> To: cfxavier@elion.cuny.edu  
>  From: el.metal@gmail.com  
>  Subject: My family, and some metalwork  
>  Date: 2008-11-07 20:48:49 -0500
> 
> Charles,
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't responded to your last letter yet. There was a lot to take in... I was glad to get it, though. I want to know more about you.
> 
> I thought maybe instead of making you wait that much longer for a response, I'd try the email address you gave me.
> 
> Your research regarding the bond and the X-gene interested me. I come from a family of mutants. Me, of course. My mother and father. I don't know anything about my father's family, as he disappeared when I was young, and my mother and I spent most of my childhood traveling around the West Coast... it wasn't until I was in my early teens that I realized we were looking for him. Obviously, we never found him. I believe his death may have caused the accident that killed my mother. I was unable to control the car when she went into shock at the wheel. That was how I ended up in Nebraska, and from then on I think you read the story for yourself.
> 
> But my mother's family is more interesting in terms of the X-gene. My grandfather was a mutant, as was his soulmate. I believe that they may have had mutants in their families as well, but since most of my grandfather's family and family history was lost during the Holocaust, I'm afraid I don't know for certain. 
> 
> The same is true for my grandmother in terms of her family/family history, but my grandmother wasn't bonded to either my grandfather or his soulmate. In fact, she wasn't bonded at all. She and my grandfathers were close, and the three of them decided to try and have children together. They only had one. Everyone is gone now except me, as far as I know.
> 
> My mother's ability allowed her to control machines, anything with moving parts, from the very simple, such as levers and pulleys, to the complex, such as cars. My grandfather could transmute metals from one type to another, an ability he was successfully able to hide until after the war. His soulmate was an empath. My grandmother had an ability that no one seemed to quite be able to identify. My mother described it as "making wishes" but could never be specific about what it was or how it worked. There weren't standardized MATs until the 1960s, but I'm told she scored highly on one when she finally managed to take one.
> 
> When I was younger, until our separation, I was testing progressively higher and higher on the MATs I took. I tested Phi before the separation. A year after our separation I tested Beta. 
> 
> More recently I'm testing Lambda, and I'm starting to do metalwork again, mostly small-form projects such as, unsurprisingly, jewelry. Here's a link to the website where I've been storing my photos. It's brand-new. Before Sebastian died I avoided having any sort of presence online. It's very strange signing up for things like email addresses and photo hosting services and bearing in mind that I won't have to recycle the usernames in a matter of weeks. Jason keeps trying to get me to sign up for FetBook.
> 
> http://metallokinetic.com/erik/gallery
> 
> \--Erik

\---

Jason and Kurt show up on Erik's doorstep with a soft _bamf_. Erik's listening for it, so he gets the door open before either one of them can knock.

After one look at them, Erik shakes his head. "I'm underdressed."

"We're overdressed," Jason says, glancing at Kurt with a grin; the two of them are dressed in tuxedos with full tails, hats, gloves... Jason has a cane, and Kurt has a red scarf wrapped around his neck. "Someone never seems to discourage me when I want to go all-out."

"Why would I want to do that?" Kurt asks, stepping close and wrapping his tail around Jason's waist. "I like your excess."

"You really _are_ well-suited," Erik blurts out, and then groans, dropping his face into his palm. "Not intended as a pun."

"No, understood," Kurt says, stretching out a hand to Erik. "It is good to see you again, Erik!"

Erik takes Kurt's hand and shakes it. "I wasn't sure you'd remember. I definitely remember you."

They've met once; Erik mentioned it to Jason after Jason projected an image of Kurt for him. Kurt did a pick-up at the metalsmithing half of Erik's jewelry shop, and Erik's pretty sure that if Kurt remembers him at all, he remembers a mutant who bored him to tears over the topic of metal alloys. 

He was nice enough about it at the time, though, and Erik remembers thinking he would have been Jason's type. It's true; Kurt couldn't be more Jason's type if he tried. He's about the same height as Jason, trim but filling out the tux he's wearing to a T, and his fine layer of indigo fur looks like it's as soft and sleek as velvet. His hands are tridactyl, two fingers and a thumb on each, and his feet have two large toes-- and are encased in custom spats. His eyes are yellow, he has fangs, and his ears are pointed-- and he has a long blue tail with a pointed tip.

He's beaming ear-to-ear, and so is Jason; Erik's actually taken aback a bit by how happy Jason looks. Erik's seen Jason with other emfriends, even emfriends he cared for, but this is something else entirely.

"I have a good memory for faces," Kurt assures Erik, "and yours is outstanding, of course I would remember."

"Hey!" Jason drops a hand out of sight, behind Kurt, and Kurt squeaks and jumps, laughing. "Careful, you."

"I will be entirely careful," Kurt promises, which sounds much, much more intimate than it should, considering.

Erik clears his throat, looking from one of them to the other. "I take it Kurt told you how we met...?"

"Yeah, the placard for his friend," Jason says, shaking his head. "Earhart Light, right?"

Erik nods in confirmation. "Small world."

"Where mutants are concerned, yes," Kurt agrees. "But not in a bad way. I only wish," he says, looking at Jason and smiling so hard his fangs show, "that you had been in the shop that day as well."

"You and me both," Jason says, getting both arms around Kurt's waist and holding him. It's something else Erik almost has to turn away from, but fortunately after a hug and a short kiss, Jason and Kurt turn back to Erik.

"Jason's told me so much about you," Erik says. It's cliché, but he can't think of anything else to offer.

"It does feel as if I already know you, yes," Kurt says. "And not just because we have met already! Jason talks so much about you, I thought at first the two of you were..."

"Not for a long time," Erik says, which makes Jason choke a little, his face lighting up red with his ability. "Or... apparently you meant something else..."

"Bonded," Kurt says, very, very gently. For all his care, Erik still flinches. "Jason told me about-- your complicated bond."

"Kurt knows Charles," Jason says, and Erik blinks a few times.

"It _is_ a small world." Erik takes a deep breath. "How is he?"

"I haven't seen him lately," Kurt admits, "but from what I hear on Fetbook, all seems well with him."

Erik has to swallow down a lump in his throat, but he nods anyway. "Thank you."

"Of course." Kurt nods in return. "So. What is the plan for tonight?" He slips his tail around Jason's waist again, and Jason wraps both arms around Kurt and squeezes. "Was it go-karts? I love racing."

"If anyone's going to try go-karting in a tuxedo..." But as Erik says it, Jason snaps his fingers, and suddenly he and Kurt are in motorcycle leathers, Jason in black and Kurt in red.

"Better?" Jason asks.

"I almost don't want to ask what you two are really wearing."

Jason smirks at Kurt; Kurt leans over and nips Jason's ear. Jason sends up a little effervescent shower of red and white hearts.

«Are you out there? Can you...» Erik sighs, shaking his head and smiling as he grabs his jacket off the coat hook near the door. _I wish I could feel you_ , he thinks, for all the sense that makes. Jason and Kurt aren't bonded. Maybe it doesn't take a bond to fall head-over-heels for someone after all; God knows Kurt and Jason seem to be on their way.

Go-karting is fun, but Erik spends the evening thinking about Charles. He's careful not to keep checking his phone for texts or emails, though; he's pretty sure Jason wouldn't haul off with another "fuck you" text, but better safe than sorry.


	5. Rocky Start (5/9) - 2008.11

**November 24, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Jason Wyngarde**!

 _Status updated:_ Boston for Thanksgiving with Erik and Kurt. Time to introduce Kurt to the family!  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ FINALLY!!!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ But no pressure, honey.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ It's ok! It will be fun!  
→ _Chris Wyngarde:_ We can't wait to meet you, Kurt!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ You're totally just saying that because you want a teleporter in the family.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Is it a scavenger hunt? What do we win?  
→ _Chris Wyngarde:_ Thanks a lot Jason! Kurt, my youngest son is a climber, last Christmas he climbed to the top of the chimney and was afraid to come down.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I see! I am familiar with all sorts of small animal rescue, kittens and such from trees. But not a person in a chimney! It will be a new experience for everyone!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Subs and Gentledoms, the light of my life. :D  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I am also lit by you, liebling. :D~  
→ _Rick Wyngarde:_ Jason, just checking, Erik's going to be here this year too?  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Yes, Dad, like I said in the initial status update...  
→ _Rick Wyngarde:_ Okay so one bedroom or two?  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ DAD I'M JUST GOING TO CALL OKAY  
→ _Chris Wyngarde:_ Kurt, my son wants to know about these kittens, I think he's going to have a lot of questions when you get here. :)  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I am looking forward to it! :)~

* * *

**November 27, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**!

 _Status updated:_ Heading up to Westchester for Thanksgiving. Have a wonderful holiday.

\---

"Would you pass the cranberry sauce, Charles, darling?"

Charles hands his mother the dish of cranberry sauce. He glances over to the side when Tom leans down, easily folding to eat his Thanksgiving dinner one bite at a time off a plate on the floor. When Tom straightens, Cain tugs him closer by his leash and pulls Tom's head against his thigh.

"Good boy," Cain says, a little louder than necessary. He makes a point of not looking at Charles, while Charles simply butters a roll and eats. One benefit of Psychitrex: he has absolutely no idea what Cain's thinking. The usual press of hostility just outside his shields doesn't register for his blunted ability now.

"Too bad your soulmate couldn't join us," his stepfather says. "You'd think if he was going to take that money, he could at least have shown up to say thanks. I mean, it is _Thanks_ giving."

Raven kicks Charles's ankle under the table and meets his eye. «I'm soooo thankful to be here, how about you,» she thinks. He can't quite muster a smile.

"Where is... what was his name again, Charles?" Sharon asks, which isn't the most helpful thing she could have said. Charles pokes at his turkey with his fork.

"Erik," Charles says quietly, "and he had other plans tonight, I'm afraid."

Other plans with his friend Jason, whose family asked on Fetbook if Erik would be sharing a bedroom with Jason and his emfriend. Oh, and Jason just happens to be an outrageously handsome up-and-coming actor.

Originally Charles was pleased for Kurt Wagner when he first saw that Wagner's dating Jason Wyngarde, who's admired among mutants for being out and proud professionally. It seemed such a good match for Wagner, with his theatrical background and equally adamant pride.

That was before Jason apparently nicked Erik's phone to send Charles a fuck-you text. Still... Wagner wouldn't be so keen on a man who'd do something like that simply out of malice. Jason probably thought he was justified, or even doing Erik a favor. Maybe he was. Erik apologized for the faux pas, but it doesn't seem to have put him off much, if he's sharing Jason's bedroom tonight.

"You mean he got a better offer," Cain says. "What happened, he hooked up with a real dom?"

Raven shoves a forkful of mushroom stuffing into her mouth. «Next year we're doing this at our place, where I can actually have my damn Tofurkey.»

«Agreed,» Charles sends, adding aloud, "Raven, would you pass the salt, please?"

\---

"Erik! It's so good to see you!" Jason's aunt Susan comes over and pats Erik's shoulder; Erik smiles down at her. Her son, Ben-- the only other mutant in Jason's family so far-- rushes up and looks from Kurt to Jason, mouth dropping open.

"Whoaaaa," Ben says, with all the poise and maturity of a six-year-old. "You have _fur!_ "

"I do!" Kurt beams down at him.

"I wish _I_ had fur." Ben's eyes are as wide as saucers. "You have a tail, too? That's not fair!"

Kurt brings his tail around and waves it in the air. "Yes, also a tail. Oh, and fangs!"

"Are you Jason's new sub?"

"When he is lucky." Kurt glances up to Susan. "I'm a switch."

"Right," Susan says, and she turns back to Ben, ruffling his hair. "You know how Aunt Lucy and Aunt Sheila aren't just domme-and-sub, they trade?"

"Ohhhhh." Ben frowns. "Jason doesn't trade."

"But he is very nice, all the same," Kurt says, looking to Jason with a smile.

Jason leans in close, arms going around Kurt's waist, and they're stopped from kissing only by Ben saying, "Hey! Climbing wall, climbing wall, you _promised_..."

"I told you it was a carnival around here," Jason tells Kurt, breaking away with an apologetic smile.

"Fortunately for you, I am a veteran of such environments." Kurt's tail comes up and strokes Jason's nose.

They're so involved with one another Erik's not sure either of them remembers that Susan is still standing there, so Erik fills in, "Kurt performed with Cirque des Mutants for several years."

"Oh! I love Cirque des Mutants, I drag Chris to a show every time we go to Vegas." Susan smiles. "What sort of performances did you do?"

Kurt manages to disengage from Jason long enough to give her his full attention; meanwhile, Jason's being pulled away by Ben. The two-story wall on the far side of the room has already taken the shape of a cliff face, and there are quite a few illusionary crash mats down on the floor.

"Erik?" The hand on his arm belongs to someone else this time, and when Erik turns, he smiles.

"Pat, hello," he says. He lets Jason's mother pull him into a hug. "I've got something for you."

"Don't tell me you brought food," she groans, "there's more than enough, I don't know where I'll put anything else. Although you," she pokes him gently in the side, "could still stand to eat a little more."

"I'm doing fine," he assures her. "I left it out in the car, I'll just go and get it."

"I'll come with you. I could use a couple minutes outside the madhouse, believe me."

Jason's car is halfway down the huge circle drive, so they have a few minutes by themselves to talk. Pat reaches out and takes Erik's hand. "I heard you slept," she says, squeezing. "I was so happy to hear about that."

"Thank you. So was I."

"And Jason says your real soulmate came and found you...?"

"Yes," Erik says, looking down at his feet. One step at a time, down the driveway. It isn't difficult. He just has to keep going.

"He'd be welcome here if you ever wanted to bring him."

"We're not... quite there yet," Erik says. "But thank you."

"Okay." She finally lets his hand go. "If you need anything, you let us know, all right?"

"Of course." Out at the car, Erik doesn't need a key to pop the trunk open. He pulls a small gift bag out and hands it over. "Careful-- it's a bit heavy."

"What is--" She pushes the tissue paper aside and reaches in, and she makes a startled little noise when she draws out the copper candlestick.

He didn't have to work from memory; Jason had the candlesticks memorized, and could project them well enough for Erik to remember their shape and size. He made three for Pat back before that awful day in April, and he'd meant to make the fourth after he was finished with Sebastian's "tests".

"It's a little late," he says quietly, "but I wanted you to have it."

Pat nods, holding onto the candlestick. "Thank you," she whispers.

She's careful not to hit him in the head with it when she flings her arms around him again.

* * *

**November 29, 2008**

**Erik Lehnsherr:** [I hope you had a good weekend |]  
 _Cancel Message?_ **Yes**  
 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I was thinking about you. I |]  
 _Cancel Message?_ **Yes**  
 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I'm still in Boston, we're leaving tomorrow. I wish I could feel you |]  
 _Cancel Message?_ **Yes**

There's a knock at Erik's door. He shoves his phone under a pillow. "Come in."

It's Jason, who looks a little ruffled but very happy-- par for the course these days. He closes the door behind him and comes over to the bed, taking a seat down at the foot of it.

Erik sits up a little straighter. Jason has a titanium ring in his pocket, light but strong, and Erik doesn't mean to snoop, exactly, but Jason isn't trying to disguise it, either. "What's the metal for?"

"I needed to ask you something." Jason slips the ring out of his pocket. It's just a plain band; now that Erik can see it from a little closer up, he can tell it isn't even rounded on the inside. It's practically industrial, and it's quite large-- bigger than a ring one might wear on one's finger, smaller than a ring one might wear elsewhere on the body. "Or, I guess... I need to tell you something, and I hope you'll understand."

"Yes?" Erik's itching to round the edges off that ring, play with the metal. Titanium has been popular for jewelry in recent years, but this is high-quality aircraft-grade metal. It wouldn't be easy to shape, but he could, if he had half a chance. Maybe he could make a pendant from it, or he could thin it out and make it into a bracelet.

"This trip, with Kurt... meeting the family... this was kind of a big deal for us. Because we've been talking, and..." Jason holds the ring out, flashes a pattern onto it with his ability. For the first time, Erik realizes that it _is_ the right size to wear on one's hand... depending on the hand. "And I want to ask him to marry me."

 _Shock_ isn't a strong enough word to describe how Erik's feeling. "Already?" he asks. "You've only been seeing him since--"

"About a month, I know," Jason says. "But you know what? Every couple in this house acknowledged within a month of meeting. Practically everyone knows within a week." He swallows, looking down at the ring. "I love him. And maybe I don't have biology telling me he's the one, but everything else says it's true. He's the one, Erik. I want to be with him." He meets Erik's eyes, steady, so certain it makes Erik's heart ache. "And I want your blessing. You're my best friend, it would mean the world to me. To both of us."

 _Practically everyone knows within a week._ It's been two and a half months since Erik finally met his soulmate, the man who was supposed to be-- the man who once was-- the love of Erik's life. Letters, text messages, email... Erik isn't sure of anything.

"What about your soulmate? What about Kurt's soulmate?"

"Kurt's soulmate renounced when they were nineteen." Jason grimaces. "You can guess why."

"Oh, God. I'm sorry..."

"And as for me... we sort of... 'talked' it over," he says, wincing. "I mean, we didn't meet, we haven't met, but... she got what I was feeling. And she sent this guilt back, and I felt guilty, too, for a while there. But then one day she was sending me back the same thing, _love_ , but the thing was-- it wasn't for me. It wasn't _at_ me. I knew." He shrugged. "And we both sent relief, and... it felt like closure. We're not blocking, but our bond was never strong. I feel like we said goodbye. Like we wished each other well." He looks back down at the ring, the pattern fading away from it. "Kurt was amazing, when that happened. It wasn't easy."

Erik reaches out and takes Jason's hands in both of his. "I'm sorry. I wish you'd told me, I would have..."

He would have tried, but it hurts just hearing that. Finding closure with a soulmate. Saying goodbye. It hits painfully close to home. Charles hasn't blocked or renounced Erik, not so far-- Erik has to believe he'd say so, if he were going to do it-- but now that they've met, it could happen any time. Erik can't feel Charles. If Charles blocked him, he'd never feel Charles again, not even if their bond somehow repaired itself. Being there for Jason while this happened would have ripped him apart.

"I'm glad you had Kurt. _Have_ Kurt. I'm glad you..." Erik takes a deep breath. "You've got it. My blessing. If you want it."

Jason bundles Erik up in his arms, and Erik rests his head on Jason's shoulder, taking the embrace for everything it is. Friendship, comfort, affection, their years and years of history together. Love, but so different from what Jason has with Kurt now; so different from what runs through Erik whenever he's thinking about that day in September, laying eyes on Charles. _It's me, yes_ , three words that filled a space in Erik's soul for the first time in eight years.

When Erik draws back, he gives the ring a tug with his ability. "So," he says, wiping at his eyes. Jason's a little misty himself; he conjures up a handkerchief and blots his tears, too. "Was there something you wanted me to do here?"

"Would you?" Jason makes a second ring, a pattern swirling across it, an idea about the shape he wants this ring to take. Erik holds out his hand for the real ring, and he rubs at the surface with his thumb, feeling the metal, getting an idea about how it's going to move for him. It definitely won't be as easy as the steel and silver he's worked with since he got so much of his ability back, but he can do this. He can absolutely do this.

"I'll need a reference for size," Erik says, as he finishes testing the metal. Jason grins and makes a replica of Kurt's left hand. Erik floats the ring in the air and slips it onto the replica's second finger, tightens it until it stays comfortably in place. From there, he starts with the exterior, drawing up a pattern similar to the one Jason imagined-- something that will hold its shape in the metal and look elegant. Once Jason's faded out the replica hand, Erik rounds off the inner edges, making it as comfortable as he can, and cleans up the pattern around the curve where inner edge meets outer surface, making sure everything flows together perfectly.

"It's beautiful," Jason says, taking the ring and holding onto it, stroking the pattern on the outside. "Thank you."

"Do you want it engraved?"

"Could you?" Jason raises his eyebrows. "Pretty fine detail work, are you up for that?"

As if Erik's going to turn down that challenge. "Name your font, I'm up for it."

Jason nods down at the ring. "Let's see what you've got."

Erik looks as the illusionary letters form, all in an old-fashioned block print-- it's the same font Jason uses whenever he makes his vintage-style posters, the ones that read _The Great And Powerful Mastermind_. This doesn't reference Jason's "Mastermind" alter ego; it says _God bless poutine. I love you. JW 11-29-2008_. Erik laughs, "Poutine?"

"Our first date," Jason fills in. "What do you think, can you do it?" Erik shoots him a look, and Jason laughs. "Okay. Go for it."

It's easy to press the letters into the band, and the phrase is sweet and silly and charming, but it leaves Erik near tears anyway. He hands the ring to Jason and takes a deep, shaking breath. Jason gets his arms around Erik right away. "God. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"No," Erik whispers. It doesn't keep him from clinging. "No, I wanted to. I want to... it means everything that you'd ask me for this. That I could do this for you. I just..."

Jason draws back and scratches his fingers through Erik's hair. It's still buzzed down, but Erik's been thinking about letting it grow. And every time he thinks about it, he grabs up the clippers, takes care of it before he can start slipping back into old patterns, old habits. He can't be the man he was, the _boy_ he was. He can't.

"You should call him," Jason says.

"I'm not ready." Erik shakes his head. "But when I am..."

"When you are, you should call him."

He hugs Erik good night, and Erik digs under his pillow for his cell phone, pulling up the messaging app again.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Thinking of you. I hope you're well.]  
 _Cancel Message?_

_Cancel Message?_

_Cancel Message?_ **No**

 _Send Message?_ **Yes**


	6. Rocky Start (6/9) - 2008.12

**November 30, 2008**

Jason and Kurt make the announcement over brunch, when there are still enough Wyngardes in Boston for nearly everyone to hear at once. When Kurt shows off his engagement ring, a whole table full of Wyngardes oohs and aahs at it, and Erik smiles to himself.

"You should take a picture," Jason urges him. "For your website."

"I don't have my real camera with me," Erik argues, but he gets his phone out anyway. When he opens it, there's a notification: a new text message, sent last night. Drawing up the conversation, the last two messages leave him a little shaken:

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Thinking of you. I hope you're well.]  
 **Charles Xavier:** [I am, thank you. Better for hearing from you. It was so good to feel that you've been happy today.]

"Picture," Jason says, nudging Erik again, and Erik shakes it off, brings up his camera app and leans in, doing his best to capture the detail with the limited amount of light he has to work with.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Jason Wyngarde**! You have [1] new notification!

 _Relationship status change requested:_ **Kurt Wagner** wants to change his relationship status with you to: **Engaged To Be Married**

 _Relationship status changed:_ You are now Engaged To Be Married To **Kurt Wagner**

 _Status updated:_ I asked Kurt to marry me last night. Guess what he said? :D  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ ENOUGH SUSPENSE, I SAID YES :DDDDDDDD~  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Date date date!!!!!!!!!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Christmas! I know, I know, it's a Thursday...  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ It's okay! Heck, that's longer than most people get to plan, especially in this family. Now we need to book a venue that seats 300.  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ O_O  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I could borrow a tent from Cirque! :D~?  
→ _Rick Wyngarde:_ What do you mean, this family? The Wyngardes wait the usual four weeks just like everybody else.  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Safeword on trapeze vows.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Awwwwww. :(((((((~  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ ...I could be talked into them?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ I meant MY side of the family. You know the Marshes tend to go have their recognition ceremonies while they're still in the middle of seeker rush.  
→ _Rick Wyngarde:_ I do remember someone saying "WHY IS THIS TAKING SO LONG" about nine times an hour for most of June '71...  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Liebling, I was only joking!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ I just want you to have everything you want for the wedding WHICH IS WHAT I THOUGHT THIS POST WAS ABOUT, HI MOM AND DAD, THANKS FOR THE NOSTALGIA TRIP but if you guys start talking about seeker rush I am safewording for real  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Actually, now I don't know if 300 will be enough. Kurt, could you please email me a list of family and friends you'd like to have attend. Jason, do the same thing, but I probably have yours.  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Am I going to be planning any little smidgen of my own wedding?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ And get Erik to make a FetBook, for pity's sake, I assume he's your best man.  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ I'll try! Yes, he is. Love you, Mom.

* * *

**December 1, 2008**

**Charles Xavier** : [It feels as if something good is happening with you. I hope it's all right to send up a flag and say that it's nice to feel your sense of accomplishment.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [It's fine.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I made something. I can't post pictures yet. But it's good. Important.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I can't wait to see it. I showed your website to Raven and she covets nearly every bracelet now. I reminded her that she only has two arms and so many days in the year to wear jewelry. She's a metamorph... I think she may be working on morphing extra arms just to prove me wrong on that.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Thank you.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [For telling me.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [It's good to hear from you.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I'm never sure.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [I'm dressing for a charity event tonight. The annual winter holiday banquet for MADL.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [A few of my friends from MFMR are taking me out... I guess it's Singles Night at Twisted Strand.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Usually I'm the designated safe call for nights like that.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [That sounds like fun. I'm afraid my evening's likely to be rather boring.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Sorry to hear that. Maybe something will come up to surprise you.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [Hope springs eternal! But if you receive a barrage of further texts, I suppose you can infer that it was a bit slow.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [:) I still don't think I should hope your night is slow. If I can respond I will, though. If not, I'm sure we'll catch up in email.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [We're at the Edison Ballroom. It's very dim in here! Candles at the tables, but I can scarcely see the people across from us at ours.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Everything is done all over in white and silver. Very tinsel-intense decor.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [So far the most excitement is the hors d'oeuvres. Tomato-blueberry bruschetta and carrot miso spread on papadum wafers. Raven is very pleased they're vegetarian.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Two of my four friends have hooked up with other mutants here. It looks like I definitely won't be drinking, I'm everyone's safe call so far.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [It's good of you to be there for them. Safe calls are so important.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Oh no, there's caviar brioche. I've had these before and they're delicious, but I'm not sure it'll be worth the eyerolls from Raven. (I'm not a vegetarian myself, to her enduring irritation.)]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [She'd eyeroll harder at me. I don't even keep kosher.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [It's probably our most frequent nonserious argument. Usually I bore her out of it by explaining how all our different tooth shapes evolved.]

\---

"Erik, hey!" Misty's on her way back, smiling broadly... oh, God. She's got a dom in tow, a somewhat shy-looking dom with brown hair and glasses. The man's taller than Erik, he can see that from here, and from the way his jeans fit him, he's in amazing shape. Erik knows what's coming before Misty gets back to their table, and he slips his phone back into his pocket.

"Erik, this is Marvin, he works at the Pittsburgh Humane Society." Misty smiles. "Marvin, this is Erik-- he makes jewelry."

"Oh, that's cool," Marvin says, offering Erik a handshake. Erik takes his hand and shakes it, nice and firm. "Independently, or do you work for a jewelry store or something?"

"Some of each. I work at Silver and Steel in the Strip, if you know where that is..."

"I think so. Well, I mean, obviously I know where the Strip District is. That's great, though. Are you wearing anything of yours...?"

It's not even a little bit subtle, but Erik quickly shakes his head. "Not wearing anything at the moment, sorry, or I'd have something to show off. The Humane Society, that sounds nice."

"I like it. Getting to be around animals all day, it is nice."

Misty waves, behind Marvin's back, and she points at Marvin and mouths _Single dom, go for it._ Erik tries not to wince.

"So Misty was saying you're usually the designated safe call when you go out..."

"Yeah." Erik's phone buzzes; he ends up bouncing his leg a little, trying to hold off reaching for it. "I'm not really looking for anything right now."

"I get that. I just got out of something kind of serious. Contract serious." Marvin shakes his head, smiling a little. "I'm still finishing up grad school. I'm definitely not ready for anything big until that's over. We found that out the hard way."

"Ah." Erik nods. "Haven't gone seeking yet?"

"Not until I'm done. You?"

Erik's mouth goes a little dry. He doesn't talk about it to his friends from MFMR-- it's pretty much known as The Topic That Dare Not Speak Its Name, and while he knows people gossip, he hasn't told anyone about Charles. Jason knows, Kurt knows, Jason's parents know... that's more or less it.

"He found me, actually. This fall."

Marvin blinks at him. "I'm sorry, Misty didn't say--"

"I haven't really talked about it much," Erik admits. "He's in Manhattan. We're still figuring it out."

"Okay." Marvin nods. "So... not really here for Singles' Night...?"

"Here for moral support and safe calls." Erik shrugs apologetically. "But it was nice to meet you."

"You know what, you'd be doing me a favor if you just let me hang out at your table. I've got some friends--" he nods back over his shoulder at a table full of doms, one of whom gives him a thumbs-up from across the room-- "who really don't want to let me get out of here if I don't get someone's number."

Erik glances across the bar at Misty. She winks at him, pointing at Marvin.

"We're in the same boat," Erik says. "Why don't we just agree to share the table for the night? And if it's not going to bother you, I was--" He digs his phone out of his pocket, finally unable to resist the temptation any longer. "I was actually texting my--"

"Your soulmate?" Marvin fills in. "Not a problem."

That's a relief. Erik smiles at Marvin before looking back at his phone.

 **Charles Xavier** : [I'm beginning to think dinner might consist entirely of hors d'oeuvres. If I'd realised, I'd've snacked a bit more this afternoon.]

It's been so strange tonight, texting this way... talking as if they might be friends, or something more. Erik's never been sure how to flirt; it wasn't a skill he picked up when he was younger, and now... he doesn't even know where to start.

He glances quickly back at Marvin to be sure Marvin isn't growing impatient with him, and then fires off a text message of his own.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I'd share my pretzels if you were here. They're a little stale, though. And not better than hors d'oeuvres, now that I think of it. Maybe I could order food. Would the bond make you more or less hungry then? I barely remember, it's been that long.]

"There," Erik says. "He's at a party. I think he's a little bored."

"I'm sure he's doing better if he's got you texting him." Marvin's smile isn't even flirtatious; he just seems sincere. "Is he a mutant, too?"

"He's a telepath."

"Oh." Marvin winces. "That's rough."

"Excuse me?" Erik sits up a little straighter, frowning.

"On him, I mean. I'm a psionic, too. I was testing Lambda before they got it under control." Marvin winces. "It was pretty bad. I couldn't filter out anything. I had some awful years where I didn't know who was thinking what, which thoughts were mine. But it's okay now-- I've been on Psychitrex for a long time, and it really helps."

"I'm sorry," Erik says. The tension drains out of his spine; he reaches across the table and takes Marvin's hand. "I'm sorry there aren't better ways of handling that."

Marvin looks down at Erik's hand for a while before his eyes meet Erik's again. "You know what, it's funny," he says softly, "but I guess I shouldn't be surprised, if your soulmate's one too... you're probably the first person in a long time to just," he turns his hand, threads his fingers into Erik's, "reach out, when I told you about my mutation."

Erik squeezes his hand, really _looking_ at Marvin for the first time. He can't let himself compare Marvin to Charles; it's never fair to anyone, being compared to someone's soulmate. Marvin couldn't look more different from Charles if he tried: square jaw, straight narrow nose, cleft chin, hair much lighter, shorter, styled differently, body broad and built instead of compact and toned...

Marvin really is good-looking. Erik shifts a little in his seat. It's been... a long time, and he's been more and more interested in getting off since he and Charles met. He imagines that first meeting over and over, fantasizes about what it would have been like if Charles had said _It's me... I'm Charles... and you're Erik? I found you, thank God... I love you... I still love you..._

Erik's phone buzzes, and then buzzes again. Erik doesn't let go of Marvin's hand.

"I can't do much," Erik says. "But I could kiss you."

"I'm game," Marvin tells him. "Want to go outside?"

"Yeah."

Erik puts his back against the wall outside, and Marvin's very, very careful, asking about the limits before they start. No touching, no grinding, no one's going home with anyone, no one's getting laid or getting off. There won't be a second time. Marvin doesn't mind any of that.

"It helps to know the parameters," he says. "And some no-strings kissing sounds great."

"Go ahead," Erik nods. "I'm ready."

He knows as soon as they start that it isn't the kiss he's been craving all these months. But God, it's _something_. It helps, a little; it burns off some of the need he's been feeling since he first saw Charles, first touched him.

And it helps to know he can scene with someone, ask for what he needs, and have that respected. When Erik puts a gentle hand on Marvin's shoulder and eases him back, Marvin doesn't argue. He licks his lips, cleans his glasses, and says, "That was really nice. Thank you."

"It was," Erik agrees, still a little breathless. "Thank you, too."

"Are you ready to go back in?"

"I've got texts to check," Erik admits. "I'll be back inside in a few minutes."

"Okay. Can I check on you if it's more than a few?"

Erik swallows, hating to admit this, but... "That's kind of you. And it's probably a good idea. I'd appreciate that."

"No problem." He nods, and leaves Erik to his cell phone, to that connection with Charles that still feels like so damned little compared to where they started.

He's got four messages waiting from Charles. He hopes Charles hasn't been waiting on him.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I'd share my pretzels if you were here. They're a little stale, though. And not better than hors d'oeuvres, now that I think of it. Maybe I could order food. Would the bond make you more or less hungry then? I barely remember, it's been that long.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [It doesn't typically have an effect on anything but moods and emotions for most people, but when I studied the subject I largely dealt with outliers and statistics. I don't recall feeling any effect before. We could experiment!]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [I spoke too soon, there may be real food after all... they've just brought out salad. Though this portion could probably fit into a thimble. I thought the tiny servings trend was over. Still, I will say I prefer tiny portions to foam.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Thank goodness, cheese and pate coming round next. Raven can glare all she likes, I'm hoarding some of these in case there's no main course.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [I wasn't going to drink tonight, but they just began pouring Quinta do Crasto Douro. Can't resist that.]

 _Wasn't going to drink tonight..._ Erik's stomach pitches a little. He wonders how much of his arousal Charles felt. It's so easy to forget that Charles can feel him, since that connection only goes one way.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I'm not familiar with it. That good? Sorry to go quiet on you for a little while. Got introduced to someone.]

Charles texts back immediately, before Erik can even get his phone back into his pocket.

 **Charles Xavier** : [Quite all right. I don't mean to monopolise your time. You should have a good Everest.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [evening*]

Erik exhales. Everest indeed.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Believe me, my ambitions for the evening aren't that impressive]

 **Charles Xavier** : [No scaling Everest this evening? :)]

And here it is, a chance to be honest.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Haven't scaled Everest in a couple of years. Probably shouldn't start again now.]

He waits for a response to that-- something, anything-- _it's all right, I'm not expecting you to be an expert..._

 **Charles Xavier** : [Main course did not soak up as much of the wine as I was hoping. I am hiccoughing like a tipsy person in a cartoon. Embracing.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Embarrassing!]

Wonderful. Either Charles is too tipsy to follow Erik's veiled hint, or he's ignoring it deliberately. Neither really bodes well; Erik sighs and taps out one last message of his own.

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Sounds like your evening is picking up, then. I'm heading back in. Need to check on my friends.]

He waves at Marvin when he walks back in, but it's quickly clear that everyone else has scattered for their scenes. He catches up with Misty, says good night, and heads home, lonelier than he'd expected after a night like this.

\---

Back at his apartment, Erik digs out his phone. It's been buzzing most of the way home; he counted five messages, he thinks. He was too much of a coward to look at them in the cab; he didn't really want to get into a conversation about his orientation difficulties while he still had to deal with a cab driver.

It turns out the conversation's taken a different turn; Charles is back to talking about his party.

 **Charles Xavier** : [Poking up is overstating the case. But I am forfeited for the speeches. Wishing your friends well. And you. Needless to say I hope.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [I don't know the band hired for the evening but they just covered Don't Dream It's Over. Lovely.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [They're platypus all low-key pop slings. So nice to hear something that's not holiday related at one of these events for a change.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Should be able to swan off in another half hour or so. I'm afraid coffee with dessert wasn't really aqueduct against the various wines.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Running the gamut of goodbyes now. Have a good night, Erik.]

He could let it go at that. He could. Charles might very well be home and headed for bed now. But there's a chance he isn't, so Erik decides to give it one more shot. _I miss you,_ he thinks. _Can you feel that?_

\---

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I'm home. And now it's time to play Minesweeper until it's safe call time.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [Raven went out after the event with friends she met up with there. I'm home sobering up with tea. I suddenly realise I'm very fond of our demitasse spoons.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [:) If they're metal, I'm sure I would like them, too.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [Stifling of some variety I believe.]  
 **Charles Xavier** : [Oh honestly sterling, sterling]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [It's all right, I'm getting the hang of interpreting you.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I do wish sometimes that you could feel me. Words can be so unsatisfying.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [No fucking kidding.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I reheated more water for tea. Do you know, when water has been boiled before, it boils faster the second time.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Just handled my first safe call. One more to go.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I'll wait up with you for the second. I need to drink considerably more in the way of liquids before retiring.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [You don't have to do that.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Stay up with me, I mean. You should definitely drink more liquids.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I am. Deep into my third teacup. Switched to chamomile.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Sounds restful.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [It is. This has been good, being in touch with you this way.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I suppose actually being in voice contact would have interfered with both our evenings.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [You can interfere with me however you like.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [There again we have an Everest I'm not ready for. I'm about to make my second safe call. Good night, Charles.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [Good night, Erik.]

\---

**December 2, 2008**

Charles wakes up with the balloon-headed feeling that he tends to get in lieu of a genuine hangover, and a vague memory of waking an hour ago to clean up after his first wet dream in years.

More clearly, he remembers texting with Erik the night before, and overindulging a bit at the banquet to counteract the bittersweet dissatisfaction of communicating with his bondmate through such a thin, incomplete connection. He kept imagining what it would be like if Erik were with him, sharing details as if describing the party would make him feel more as if Erik were there.

He could feel nostalgia from Erik, and a little lilt of pleasure that seemed to coincide with some of the texts... but there was also anxiety, and during one of the extended pauses in conversation, vague but persistent curiosity and attraction that had to be directed at someone else, amping into something strong and unfamiliar, pleasure mixed with nervousness. Charles started drinking in earnest when he felt that.

Fumbling for his mobile, Charles reads over the conversation from the night before. By the end of it, he's ready to throw the phone across the room and hide his head under the pillows.

 _"You can interfere with me however you like"?_ There's no excuse for that. He'd even been mostly sober by then. Christ, he always does this. It seemed to be going well, so naturally he grabbed for too much and wore out his welcome.

His despondency fades, though, as a swell of arousal rises in him from nowhere-- not from nowhere, from a distance. If he tried, he's sure he could home in on the bond precisely again, the near west.

It goes on a long while, this time, not the perfunctory arousal and relief he's occasionally felt from Erik. After yesterday's attraction, the dream earlier, and now this... maybe after Erik took care of everyone's safe calls, he entertained company of his own.

Charles's ability has often made him a not-entirely-willing voyeur; this shouldn't feel any different. He could always just tune it out. It doesn't take blocking entirely to minimize the effect of something like this, it just takes diverting attention from the bond.

He should. His own sex drive has been all over the map since he began sensing the bond again. He's largely lost interest in other partners. There's always the possibility that the bond might return for Erik as well, and it galls Charles to imagine that sex with someone else might be the first thing Erik feels from him. And after his first awful meeting with Erik, his libido died away almost entirely for several weeks. He's more or less back to normal, now, but he still doesn't have the heart to hit the clubs, and no one's approached him for months.

Eventually Charles throws off the blankets and heads into the shower to ride out the rest of it, another fifteen minutes of full, greedy pleasure before Erik's satisfaction rings through him and he gets off on the echoes as well.

When they were young, he always felt so close to Erik when they did this, but it's not something they're doing together, now. He can sense Erik again, but they're still each of them alone.

Once he's clean and out and dry and halfway through dressing, Charles catches his own eye in the mirror and grimaces. He shakes out a Psychitrex tablet and swallows it before he turns his back on his reflection to start brushing his teeth.

\---

 **Charles Xavier** : [It seemed to me that our text exchange perhaps went a bit awkward toward the end last night. I'm sorry if you felt the same.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [It's only to be expected. It was a tiring night for me anyway, I wasn't at my best.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Having a much better morning, though.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [I'm glad to hear that. And feel it.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [I'm sorry about that, I'll be more careful in the future.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [Not at all. The last thing I want is to stop you living your life.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [It is nice to finally have one again. Thank you for that.]

 **Charles Xavier** : [If there's anything I can do to make things better for you, I'd like to do it.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr** : [Thank you. That means a lot to me. I have work in twenty minutes, I have to go. I'll be in touch. Have a good day.]

\---

If Erik's late to work today, he has no one but himself to blame. He rushes into the shower, scrubs himself down as quickly as he can, and manages to throw himself into clothes still dripping wet. It's not going to be his most dignified arrival at Steel and Silver.

His own fault, though. He was the one who let Misty bring Marvin over to his table; he was the one who told Marvin he might as well stay; he was the one who said _I can't do much, but I could kiss you._

No wonder he woke up aching for it, even if he knew all along he was kissing the wrong dom. And if he'd been more awake or thinking more clearly this morning he probably would've checked a clock first. But the stainless-steel dildo he bought this week has been lying there, waiting for him to find the right time to use it, and this morning that metal was more than he could resist. Twice.

He's still a little sore, actually. It's huge, and he's out of practice. And on top of that, Charles got to eavesdrop on him getting himself off through the bond. Erik's still not sure how he feels about that, but at least he managed not to tell Charles _Next time I'll ask permission._ As if Charles would want to be put in that position. _We hardly know each other, we're just starting to talk, would you like to be in charge of my sex life? Such as it is._

Fortunately, work is slow, and no one notices that Erik's less put together than usual. He glances at his phone once he's set up for the day, and looks at his messages again.

 _If there's anything I can do to make things better for you, I'd like to do it._ Erik sighs at himself and puts his phone away. What he wants, what he could actually take if Charles offered it, and what Charles is willing to offer... he doubts there's much common ground between those three things.


	7. Rocky Start (7/9) - 2008.12

**December 5, 2008**

_[Invitation delivered to Charles Xavier, December 5, 2008]_

Patricia and Richard Wyngarde  
request the pleasure of your company  
at the wedding of their son  
Jason Nobuo Wyngarde  
to  
Kurt Adelfried Wagner  
Thursday, December 25th, 2008  
eight o'clock  
at  
The Museum of Fine Arts  
Avenue of the Arts  
465 Huntington Avenue  
Boston, Massachusetts

Reception to follow

Please RSVP by December 15, 2008

\---

**December 6, 2008**

Welcome to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**! Would you like to add friends?

 _Friend request sent:_ **Jason Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request sent:_ **Kurt Wagner**  
 _Friend request sent:_ **Pat Wyngarde**

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**! You have [5] notifications!

 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Jason Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Kurt Wagner**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Pat Wyngarde**

 _Friend request accepted:_ **Chris Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request accepted:_ **Susan Wyngarde**

Would you like to make a **status update**?

 _Status updated:_ This is very strange...  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ We're all strange here.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Speak for yourself! :D~  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Hi Erik!

_Status updates, **Pat Wyngarde** :_

**12/6/2008:** Finally have menu sorted out. OMG if I get one more person with a seating request I'm going to attack them with a shrimp fork. As long as they're not allergic to shellfish. Or forks. I want to outlaw allergies. Can I do that?  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ So basically if you kill people at our wedding, it will be due to either a.) allergies, or b.) seating requests?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Reserving letters c thru z right now because of reasons.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I would like to reserve C for "anyone who requests the Funky Chicken dance song from the musicians".  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ That can be C.  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Hi all. Please let me know if there's anything I can do. I've cleared my work schedule and I can be in Boston as soon as Friday the 12th.  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Driving, flying, or bamfing?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Oh thank God! Please get here Friday, you can stay with us for as long as you want. I really need the help.  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Driving. Okay, Friday it is.

Would you like to **upload a profile picture**?

  
[Photograph of Erik, taken directly facing the camera. His eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth is hanging open slightly, and he's a bit more pale than usual. He's wearing a hoodie, with the hood turned down around his shoulders. It may be the least flattering picture of Erik ever taken.]

 _Friend request:_ Ask **Charles Xavier** to be your friend?

_Friend request cancelled._

Would you like to **delete your profile picture**?

**Profile picture deleted.**

Would you like to **upload a profile picture**?

  
[Photograph of Erik, cropped to remove the hand holding his cell phone camera and the resulting flash in the mirror. His expression is more relaxed. He's still wearing the hoodie. It is obviously meant to be more appealing than the last photograph.]

 _Friend request:_ Ask **Charles Xavier** to be your friend?

 _Friend request sent:_ **Charles Xavier**

  
[Professional portrait of Charles Xavier in black and white. Charles's profile picture is literally a photo of Charles in profile, smiling. His freckles are all washed out by the enhanced contrast in the picture. He's wearing a suit and tie, and his hair is neatly swept back behind his ear.]

\---

> To: el.metal@gmail.com  
>  From: cfxavier@elion.cuny.edu  
>  Subject: FetBook, Jason and Kurt's wedding  
>  Date: 2008-12-07 08:16:32 -0500
> 
> Dear Erik,
> 
> I saw your friend request on FetBook this morning. Of course I "friended" you immediately. 
> 
> The terminology on social networking sites has always seemed awkward to me, as it seems to lump all our relationships with people from acquaintances to colleagues to relatives to close friends under one summary heading; please know that if you find you're no longer interested in reading my once-a-day status updates, which primarily have to do with classwork and occasional topics in concordance theory and methodology, I won't assume that it affects our real-life status with one another. 
> 
> FetBook's shortcomings notwithstanding, it's good to hear from you, by any and all means.
> 
> I've been fascinated hearing more and more about your family; your grandfathers' meeting on the boat to New York must have been incredible, to say the least. Thank you so much for sharing these stories with me. I hope it's not intrusive or in bad taste to say that I'd be eager to research your genealogy.
> 
> We seem to have a mutual friend in Kurt Wagner. I received an invitation to his and Jason's wedding two days ago. So far I've hesitated to RSVP. If my presence would detract from your enjoyment of the occasion, I'll send my regrets. If you wouldn't mind my coming, I'll attend with my sister as my plus one. I'll understand if you would prefer not to interact with me in person. I'm glad of every letter, text and email we've exchanged, but I realize correspondence is a far cry from meeting face to face.
> 
> I'm so happy to have the opportunity to see what you've been creating with your ability. Your metalwork is extraordinary. Thank you for sending the link to your latest; I've admired every piece you've made. If the time comes that you can share whatever you were working on the other day, I'd be excited to see it.
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Charles

\---

**December 7, 2008**

"It's us, are you decent?"

"I am, and the entryway is clear this time. No tripping hazards."

"Perfect. Be right there."

Jason isn't joking; as soon as they hang up, there's Kurt's telltale 'bamf' sound, and Jason and Kurt 'port in, both of them bundled up in parkas. Erik laughs and shakes his head. "Just get finished skiing or something?"

"Repeated synchronized falling," Kurt corrects with a smile. "We are no good even on the bunny slopes."

"If they had, like... hamster slopes," Jason adds, tugging off his knit hat and pocketing it.

"Chinchilla slopes!"

"Wombat slopes!"

"Should I take your coats?" Erik offers, before they can get too far down the list. "Or are we going right back out?"

"I was going to pick up food once we got here, but yes, yes, coat, please," Kurt says, shrugging out of his and sighing as he unfurls his tail. "The warmth is nice. The constriction, less nice."

"So where are you going?" Jason asks. "The dumpling place on--"

"--37th, yes, your favorite--"

Jason dumps his parka on the floor and gives Kurt a hug. "Thanks, babe. Come back safe."

"Always," Kurt murmurs. Erik looks away while they share a goodbye kiss before Kurt bamfs off.

"So how's the planning?" Erik asks, picking Jason's parka up off the floor and drawing out thin tendrils of metal from the trunk of the coat rack. Once he's hung both coats on the tendrils, he rebalances the rack itself-- two parkas do add an appreciable amount of weight.

Jason just grins at him when he's done. "I love it. Everything from silverware to coat racks now, huh?"

"And then some. Do you want to see them, or should we wait for Kurt?"

Jason's eyes light up. "You're finished?"

"I'm finished. And I've got at least one person besides the two of you who's dying to see what I came up with, so..."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

Erik hesitates before answering, and Jason stares for a few seconds. He lets it slide, though. "Show me."

Erik heads for the bedroom, opening up the small jewelry chest on his dresser. There are two ring boxes in it, side-by-side, and just to the side of them, his windcatcher's at rest, still strung on its chain. He traces the windcatcher with a fingertip and takes the ring boxes out to Jason, floating them over-- they may be velvet-lined, but the inside is steel.

Jason's ring box is black; Kurt's is blue. Erik opens them both at once, and Jason takes a deep breath, reaching out for them.

"They're perfect," Jason says softly. "I know how much Kurt loves his engagement ring, and thank you again for that, but-- wow." He slips his own wedding ring out of the box, stroking the different metals, gold and platinum fused and woven together.

Kurt's is similar, but built on a slightly larger scale due to the shape of his fingers. Jason takes that one, too, and can't resist nesting them: his ring fits easily within the circle of Kurt's.

"You can let me know the inscriptions at the wedding. I can do them on the spot."

"Thanks." Jason smiles and slides the rings back into their boxes. "So how are you doing?"

"I'm fine. I'm..." Erik sets the boxes aside and scratches gently at the back of his head. "Charles emailed me this morning."

"Yeah?"

"He said he'd gotten a wedding invitation this week..."

"Yeah? From who?" As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jason gapes at him. "Wait, from _us_? Did I know that? Shit, Mom's really inviting everybody, isn't she?"

Erik winces. "I wish you wouldn't do that. Say things like that." Jason just stands there, hands on his hips, fuming. "We might not be... together... exactly... but he's still my soulmate. There's something between us, I just... I don't know what it is, yet."

"Three months of him groveling for being an _ass_ when you first met and trying to buy you off with a trust fund? Oh, believe me, I can tell you what it is."

"Fuck off," Erik snaps. "No, you can't. You don't even listen-- when his name comes up, you start in on him, you don't even give me a chance to talk." The two of them face off for a moment, Erik's fists clenched, Jason's eyes flashing dramatic orange licks of flame in his irises, but Erik isn't finished. "He didn't know what had happened to us. Can you blame him for being angry? I'm still fucking angry, and Sebastian's been dead for nearly six months now."

He feels a little guilty, because it's not all Jason's fault that he doesn't realize how different things are now. Erik's always talked to Jason about practically anything and everything, but he doesn't know how to explain what's going on between him and Charles, not even to his best friend.

They've exchanged a dozen or so emails by now, a little overly formal and stilted on both sides, but Erik feels as if he's been getting a fuller picture of Charles over these weeks and months. They talked about Erik's family, and some tentative discussion of mutant history evolved from that. If Erik's not all that impressed with Charles's tendency to favor compromise with humans, he's been relieved to find that Charles is well-versed in their history and involved in the mutant community on a personal basis, not just throwing money around. Erik looked up Charles's thesis, and after a dozen or so trips to Wikipedia to familiarize himself with the vocabulary and concepts, he found himself nodding along with the arguments.

If Jason had ever attended one of those Xavier Foundation events, if Erik had met Charles socially without knowing who they are to each other, Erik would want to know him. Even aside from the physical attraction, Charles is obviously intelligent and thoughtful and engaged with the things that matter most to Erik. They might argue, but Erik's never shied away from disagreement.

He can't really parse what's changed for him, what's still changing. The fury and hurt fade more every day; the blind longing has grown more knotty and complicated as he's learned more about who Charles is now. Of course Jason doesn't understand; how can he, when Erik doesn't even understand it himself?

"I don't blame him for being angry," says Jason. "I blame him for being an ass, like I said."

"I want him to come." Erik gets his fists unclenched and shoves his hands into his back pockets. "All right? I want him to come, I want... he says he and Kurt are friends."

"Oh, is _that_ what he said."

It shouldn't stagger him, Jason's obviously still just pissed off, but it sounds like there's more in that statement than anger. Erik rears back a little. "What is that supposed to mean...?"

"Erik..." Jason reaches out, instantly remorseful, but Erik takes another step back. With impeccable timing, Kurt 'ports back in holding a paper sack full of dumplings.

"Ta da! I have-- oh." Kurt frowns, looking from one of them to the other. "What did I miss?"

"What are you getting at?" Erik asks Jason. Jason glances over at Kurt, who 'ports into the kitchen, drops off the dumplings, and 'ports right back to Jason's side. Erik can't help looking just a little more closely at Kurt-- if Jason means what Erik thinks he does, then... Kurt's gorgeous, of course, but he and Erik look _nothing_ alike, and if Kurt is Charles's type, then maybe it explains... maybe it explains _something_...

"Erik, I just meant that..."

Kurt elbows him. "Play this back," he demands. When Jason frowns at him, Kurt frowns back just as hard. "You were saying something that is earning me that look, yes?" He gestures at Erik. "Show me what it was."

Jason flashes it into the air in front of them, just the last exchange. _He says he and Kurt are friends... Oh, is_ that _what he said... What is that supposed to mean...?_

Kurt makes an outraged sound deep in his throat, and the pointed end of his tail comes up and whacks Jason gently on the back of the head, just enough to ruffle his hair. " _This_ , you get into while I'm buying dumplings. See if you get any of the pork-and-crab ones." He comes forward, reaches out a hand to Erik. "Charles and I are friends, and yes, we have scened together, but it was nothing serious. Friendly relations." He glances back at Jason. "Like yours. I think?"

" _Not_ like ours," Jason insists, coming over and catching Kurt's tail in his hand. "Nothing like ours. You and Charles, that was a one-time thing."

"You knew," Erik says, frowning at Jason again. "You knew and you didn't tell me--"

Jason dodges this time, Kurt's tail still in his hand, as Kurt waves the point of it toward him. "Because I didn't want someone to whack me upside the head with his tail. Honestly." Kurt jerks his tail out of Jason's easy grip, but this time from the sound of the impact and the way Jason jumps, Erik thinks he took the hit much lower. "Better," Jason mutters.

" _Hmph._ "

"Erik, look-- I don't know, okay? I don't know everyone or everything or every _where_ the guy scened, but I know he wasn't waiting for you--"

"It isn't like that," Kurt interjects. He turns to Erik with a sigh. "Sometimes, the heart seeks companionship--"

"--the _heart_?--"

"--especially when something important is missing from a life." Kurt looks at Jason, and draws his hand up to stroke Jason's cheek. "You have not judged _me_ by the number of people I have scened with..."

"You haven't scened with half as many people as Xavier has."

"My tail is _ready_ , liebling..."

"Sorry." Jason looks at Erik, too, and winces. "Sorry. Look, I just want you to be prepared for this, okay? Five hundred and fifteen guests, not all of them are Wyngardes... I know Kurt invited a lot of the New York mutant crowd, and it could get awkward fast. Xavier might end up bringing a date."

For that, at least, Erik has an answer ready. "He already wrote that he'd bring his sister, if he comes."

"You see?" Kurt's tail comes up again; Jason sighs and lets Kurt ruffle his hair with it this time. "He is not the thoughtless man you take him for. As I have tried to tell you."

"You talk about Charles?" Erik asks, looking from one of them to the other.

"You're kind of a big deal to me," Jason points out. "The topic's come up."

"If you would like to talk more, from someone who knows him a little..." Kurt shrugs helplessly. "I would be happy to tell you."

"Oh," Erik says, and having come this far, it seems cowardly to flinch away now. "Then-- yes."

Kurt straightens a little, pulling slightly away from Jason; Jason closes the gap, wrapping an arm around his waist. "When I met you before, the plaque? That was for Charles, or rather, he commissioned it as a gift for a friend."

Jason shakes his head. "No, if you're telling him that much, tell him the rest."

Kurt casts an irked look at Jason, but Jason's giving it right back, and Kurt seems to concede whatever point is at issue. "He was dating a friend of mine," Kurt explains. When Jason looks pointedly at Kurt this time, Kurt simply ignores him. Erik tries to do the same. "She is also a teleporter. He had a remote monument restored as a surprise for her birthday, the plaque was for that."

"And?" Erik asks, heart in his throat.

"And she was very happy," Kurt says. "But they broke up in June, I don't know why. Both said it was mutual and amicable."

June, when Sebastian died. Erik isn't sure how to feel about that. Happy that Charles might have ended a relationship as soon as he started to feel their bond again... guilty, for the same reason... worried that Charles might reunite with her, now that he's met Erik and walked away... "Is she going to be at the wedding?"

"I invited her," says Kurt. "No reply yet. She wasn't happy that I stayed in touch with Charles after they parted, but he is also my friend. He helped me gain better control over my teleportation. I have him to thank that now there are not clouds of smoke the size of myself to mark my coming and going."

"From the sound of things, that's pretty much his big come-on line," Jason says sourly. "Hey, hot stuff, why don't you let me give you a hand with your mutation, and then we'll see where this crazy thing takes us."

"I keep telling you it was not at all like this," Kurt rolls his eyes.

It's almost too bad. It would have given Erik an opening. _You know, since we were reconnected, I've been feeling my ability more and more. Kurt says you're good at helping people learn to control their powers... maybe we could..._

He's being ridiculous. Charles is his _soulmate_. He shouldn't need pick-up lines to convince Charles to spend time with him... but in the last two months Charles certainly hasn't suggested meeting in person again. Once was, apparently, enough.

"Okay, so." Jason reaches out and squeezes Erik's shoulder. "It's not too late for me to tell the guy, oops, misunderstanding with the invites." He looks back at Kurt. "I'll take the heat for that, if it comes to it."

"It won't." Erik sighs, looking down at the floor. "Don't un-invite him. I want to see him again."

"You could meet him over coffee, man. It doesn't have to be at the wedding."

"I'd probably back out of coffee. Or anything else." Or Charles might. He ran away quickly enough in September. Erik can't exactly blame him from needing space after having the whole story about Sebastian unloaded into his mind, but he bailed Erik out of jail and didn't even stay for the arraignment, let alone to see Erik after he was set free. "This way there's no escape hatch." Erik shrugs, tilting his head back up. "But if you'd rather not have that happen at your wedding..."

Kurt steps in and wraps his arm around Erik's waist, hugging him. "Weddings are for bringing people together," he says gently. "If ours will provide the two of you with an opportunity to meet again, then I am glad his name is on the list."

"Yeah, well," Jason counters, "if he freaks you out or makes you uncomfortable at all, you let me know. I'll kick his ass to the curb."

"You will delegate that to Pat," Kurt says firmly. Jason glares at him, and Kurt untangles himself from Erik, winding his tail around Jason's arm. Jason hugs him, tail and all. "I plan to have you as much to myself as I can, in a reception hall of five hundred and thirty-two."

"Thirty-two, what, when did there get to be an extra seventeen?!"

"I believe by the time your mother is finished we will have used up every single seat possible, which is five hundred and ninety-nine."

"Oh my God." Jason presses his face to Kurt's shoulder. "Bamf us to Vegas or something, I want to elope."

"While that is very romantic, I thought you hated Las Vegas." Kurt strokes Jason between the shoulders, and a knot loosens for Erik, too, seeing it. Kurt knows how to take care of Jason, and it hasn't taken him a lifetime to learn. People can start at their age, without the bond holding them together.

He still can't feel anything from Charles. Maybe Dr. Cabrera was right. Maybe he never will. But if Charles can feel him now, he's feeling warmth and hope. Erik focuses on those feelings, trying hard to send them out, hoping they're not lost to the ether.

\---

> To: cfxavier@elion.cuny.edu  
>  From: el.metal@gmail.com  
>  Subject: Re: FetBook, Jason and Kurt's wedding  
>  Date: 2008-12-09 23:23:45 -0500
> 
> Charles,
> 
> Please don't hesitate to join us for the wedding. I know Jason's partner is very fond of you. I should tell you up-front that I'm going to be busy the entire time I'm in Boston. I'll be arriving on the 12th, and I need to be back in Pittsburgh by January 2nd. Jason's mother will undoubtedly have me running errands from sunrise to sunset every day, and I'll have my hands full at the ceremony and reception as well.
> 
> But it would be good to see you again face-to-face, however briefly. If nothing else, I'm sure it will go better than it did in September.
> 
> Take care,  
>  Erik

\---

**December 10, 2008**

"I sent in our RSVP this morning," Charles tells Raven over breakfast. "I'll have to call Sharon and Kurt to let them know we won't be home this Christmas."

"Yes! Oh my God, the biggest event of the year _and_ we get out of Christmas with the family! Score!" Raven pumps her fist; Charles may have been gifted with slightly more tact, but he can't help but agree with the sentiment. "When do we leave?"

"My last final will finished on the 19th. We can leave as early as the 20th if you'd like to spend some extra time in Boston."

"I've got some friends in Boston, I wouldn't mind." Raven looks him over, tapping her fingers on the tabletop. "When does Erik get in?"

"The 12th." Charles picks up his toast, sets it down again, brushes crumbs off his fingertips. "I don't know if I'll be able to see him other than at the wedding."

"He's going to be there two full weeks before the wedding and he's not making time to see you? Ouch." Raven frowns. "You'd think he could at least go out to coffee with you."

"He's the best man, he's going to be very busy. I don't want to pressure him." Charles raises an eyebrow at her. "And it would be helpful to have the same consideration myself."

"Okay. Okay, I get that, but..." Raven sighs, getting to her feet; she walks around the table and stands behind Charles, settling her hands on his shoulders. "It's been three months since you met the guy. Don't you think it's about time to figure out where you want all this to go?"

Charles gently moves her hands off his shoulders and eases her around to his side. "I want you to promise me you're not going to make a scene at the wedding."

"Oh my God, Charles, seriously, would I do that?" She frowns. "I mean, okay, if he were being a total assclown right in your face, then maybe, but I don't get why you feel like you need to be that protective over this guy _now_. He's a grown-up. He can take care of himself, if it comes to that. You think he's telling his buddies to lay off _you_?"

Charles has been tempted, a few times... several times... to call Kurt Wagner, or message him on FetBook, or... anything... and ask him what, if anything, Erik's said about him. He hasn't reached that level of desperation, but he did give serious consideration to it after getting Erik's email. _I know Jason's partner is very fond of you._ Charles checked his lapel for a scarlet "A" after reading that, and quickly read through his last few weeks of FetBook status updates for anything that Erik might have taken badly.

And then he read and read and re-read Erik's email. _I'm going to be busy the entire time I'm in Boston. I'll have my hands full at the ceremony and reception as well... If nothing else, I'm sure it will go better than it did in September._ By the end of it, Charles wondered why Erik didn't simply text "Fuck you" again directly; at least it would have had the benefit of being unambiguous.

He can't help recalling the feelings he received from the bond just before the email arrived. Hope, warmth... even affection. Intense affection. When he saw he had an email from Erik so soon after feeling that from him, Charles let himself hope. He probably should have saved the energy. From what Charles has been able to feel, morning after morning, Erik's had company every day. Maybe his new emfriend put eir foot down about Erik seeing Charles. Maybe Erik was grateful for the excuse to be distant.

All that warm affection... Charles had better brace himself to meet this person at the wedding. To see Erik on someone else's arm, maybe even wearing someone else's collar. Or, no, he isn't submissive anymore... someone else's token, anyway.

He supposes he ought to appreciate Erik's proactive setting of expectations: he'll be very busy, it would nice to see each other "however briefly," all those tacit warnings to Charles not to anticipate a reconciliation in person. That would be painful, but understandable and even thoughtful. After all, Charles did promise he wouldn't approach Erik if Erik didn't want to deal with him face-to-face.

But then that last line... _If nothing else, I'm sure it will go better than it did in September._ The first time he read that, Charles literally flinched.

He should probably answer to signal that he understood the subtext, find a way to imply that he'll respect it and keep his distance. "I'll email him," Charles says. "At some point, before we show up. All right?"

"Okay," Raven says. She sits down and goes back to her breakfast, and Charles sets his toast aside. He's not that hungry after all.

\---

> To: el.metal@gmail.com  
>  From: cfxavier@elion.cuny.edu  
>  Subject: Re: Re: FetBook, Jason and Kurt's wedding  
>  Date: 2008-12-11 19:34:55 -0500
> 
> Dear Erik,
> 
> Raven and I have RSVPed for the wedding. We plan to arrive in Boston the evening of the 20th. If you have the chance, it would be lovely to see you, but I understand that as best man, you'll be occupied with your responsibilities, so I won't presume upon your time.
> 
> You probably have a great deal of preparation to handle even now, since you're going to be in Boston tomorrow. Have a safe trip.
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Charles


	8. Rocky Start (8/9) - 2008.12

**December 15, 2008**

The tailor takes one look at Erik and hesitates. "Will you be wearing a vest or a corset?"

"Vest," Jason says, definitive, but when he sees the look on Erik's face, he blinks. "Or..."

"I could look at something with a moderate amount of boning," Erik hedges. "If you've got something."

"Give me just a minute, I'll have a look. It probably won't be in the color you want, but of course we've got ten days, we'll have plenty of time to order whatever color you need from our main warehouse."

"Right," Jason says. As soon as the tailor's gone, he looks at Erik and says, "Really?"

Erik takes a seat in one of the huge stuffed leather armchairs. "It doesn't have to be about orientation," he hedges. "Dominant women get to wear corsets all the time."

"Right, because what you need in order to look totally badass is a smaller waistline."

"Fuck you." Erik sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Maybe I just want to wear that much metal again."

"Maybe _a moderate amount of boning_ refers to something else besides clothes," Jason says. A small disembodied mouth pops up at his left shoulder and blows Erik a raspberry. "When's he getting here?"

"The 20th." Erik takes a deep breath, dries his palms off on his jeans. "With his sister. They're staying in the Hotel Commonwealth."

"Good," Jason says. "Nowhere near my parents' house."

It's only a few blocks from the museum where they're holding the wedding and the reception, though. Not even a mile. Minutes by foot, less by cab.

The tailor comes back with several different styles of corset vests, and Erik can tell from here that "moderate boning," to a tailor, means "a few of these _aren't_ borderline training corsets." He slips out of his jacket anyway, and drops to one knee to unlace his boots.

"Hey. Time out." Jason points down at Erik's wrist. "Since when are you...?"

Erik doesn't need to look in order to know what Jason's pointing at. "Since I felt like wearing it again," he says quietly, putting his boots neatly aside and stripping out of his jeans. He grabs an undershirt out of his backpack and puts it on; once he's been handed a dress shirt-- and had the tailor cluck about alterations-- he stands in front of a triple mirror and watches as the tailor laces him into the corset vest.

His windcatcher spins at his wrist as the tailor pulls the laces tight-- not too tight, it doesn't feel as restrictive as it did when he was wearing them for work, but he stands a little straighter, feels the metal boning under the fabric pull him in.

"Are you sure about this?" Jason asks. "About all of this? I mean, God, I don't care if you show up in a Powerslave shirt and ripped jeans, you're still my best friend. I still want you up there with me."

"Thank you." Erik runs his hand down the front of his vest, the metal flexing gently under his palm. "It's red," he says, glancing down at the vest. "I thought you wanted black."

"This one comes in black," the tailor assures him. "What do you think?"

Erik takes a deep breath, as deep a breath as he can with the corset holding him in. "I think I'm as sure as I can get," he says, meeting Jason's eyes in the mirror. "Do you like it?"

Jason looks at him for a long, long time, long enough Erik turns away from the mirror and meets his eyes directly. "What's the matter...?"

"Could you give us a minute?" Jason asks the tailor.

"Sure. I've got some jackets to bring in for both of you."

He disappears, and Jason and Erik are left on their own. Jason comes forward, slides his hands onto Erik's waist. Erik can feel Jason's fingers against all the strips of metal, compressing him along with the corset, and he shivers a little, trying not to lean in.

"For the longest fucking time, I wanted this to be us," Jason says quietly. "I wanted you. Just like this. Or maybe like this--" He waves a hand, and suddenly the reflection Erik sees in the mirror is himself, seventeen, dressed up in the tuxedo he wore to junior prom. "And I knew, you know? I knew you didn't feel like that about me, but I thought that was okay. I thought I'd be fine. We'd always been friends, there was chemistry, it was plenty."

Erik nods. He reaches up and puts his hand over Jason's, lets himself feel the warmth of Jason's hand underneath his own, Jason's hand trapped between Erik's hand and all the metal in his corset.

"It was enough right up until I met Kurt, and somebody fell for me the way I fell for him. He's _nuts_ about me, you have no idea--"

"I do know," Erik murmurs. "I've seen it."

"He's just--" Fireworks burst in the air, all kinds, all colors, a display that goes above and beyond all the ones Erik's seen him do before. Erik squeezes his hand, holding steady. "So look. I don't know what the hell I think Xavier deserves. I don't know the guy, and whatever Kurt says, whatever _you_ say, I think you deserve better than you've gotten from him so far. And I'm probably going to think that for a while."

"I figured as much."

"But _you_ \-- I want this to be you someday." The reflection in the mirror shifts, Jason standing where Erik is, getting fitted for a best man's suit. Erik in Jason's place, an engagement collar around his throat-- and _oh._ God. Erik swallows, and his reflection makes the motion, too, and it's never struck Erik so hard before that he wants this _back_.

"I want you to have everything you want. A partner who makes you happy. Someone who's a part of you that you could never imagine being without again." He finally slips his hand off Erik's waist and reaches up, both hands cupping Erik's face. "Maybe I'm never going to think Xavier deserves you, but if he's what you want-- what you need-- then _fuck it_ , I want you to have him."

Erik bends forward and rests his head against Jason's, breathing. Just breathing. He slips his hands over Jason's and holds him there, hangs on to him.

"I love you," Jason whispers. "I always will."

"I love you, too." Erik moves, just enough, and Jason tilts his head up to meet him.

It's the first time they've kissed since-- God, since all the way back in high school. All those scenes, everything they've done in the past few years, but they've been careful not to go this far. And Erik's been alone-- alone, without the wreckage of his bond to Sebastian-- for six months now. He can't help responding, can't help _wanting_.

"Yeah," Jason murmurs, hand slipping around to the back of Erik's neck, gently kissing Erik's mouth before he backs away. "Always will, and you know it. But--"

"But we're not it, for each other." Erik forces himself to let go of Jason's shirt; right now he knows damn well he'd take _not the one_ in a heartbeat, just as long as it was someone he could trust, just as long as he could _get off_ \-- «please, God, it's been _forever_...»

He almost feels something, the slightest flicker of emotion at his joining spot. The minute he concentrates on it, it slips away. It could be his imagination. It could even be déjà vu. He remembers junior prom, that wistful sense of love and encouragement he received through the bond the last time he had Jason in his arms like this, the last time he kissed Jason this way. He remembers _Charles_.

"I'll talk to him at the wedding," Erik says, smoothing out the collar and tails of his dress shirt. "And then we'll see."

"Okay." Jason nods, smiles at him. "Good luck."

Erik's not sure if «Good luck to both of us» translates across the bond, but he gives it his best shot.

\---

**December 18, 2008**

Charles promised to keep his distance, and he's resisted texting Erik again since that ill-advised evening a couple of weeks ago. But when a vague sense of arousal laced with nervousness spikes into a moment of actual fear, Charles fumbles his mobile out of his pocket and sends a text.

 **Charles Xavier:** [Are you all right?]  
 **Charles Xavier:** [I'm sorry to bother you, but I felt that. Could I call you?]

He has a classroom full of students hard at work on their blue book exams, but none of that matters. He'll walk out and _run_ all the way to Boston if he has to. He's not leaving Erik alone to be afraid of anything ever again.

It's only a minute or two before he receives a text message in return, but it feels like much longer. Erik's fear is a dull ache in Charles's joining spot now, something less immediate, layered with something else. Heartache, briefly. And then it's something else again. He can't even find the words to describe it now... it's a blur of several different emotions, sadness, relief, nostalgia, affection, something bittersweet.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I'm fine, thank you.]

He doesn't _feel_ fine, and Charles supposes he should let it go now-- Erik's as much as told him to leave him alone-- but he can't.

 **Charles Xavier:** [I don't want to intrude, but it's difficult to feel that much distress from you and do nothing. Please tell me what's happening.]

He regrets it almost as soon as he sends it-- what a stupid, ridiculous thing to say, he spent nearly two full years when they were teenagers feeling distress from Erik and doing nothing. If Erik wants to call him on that, he has every right. The last thing Charles ought to expect is an explanation. He gave up any claim to being Erik's protector when he failed Erik the first time around.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I really am fine, Charles. I'm at the wedding venue with Pat Wyngarde, Jason's mother.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Someone said something that caught me oddly. But I'm not in any danger.]

Pat Wyngarde. That's a relief, at least. Erik's talked about the Wyngardes in his emails, and from everything he's said, Charles is grateful that Erik's had them all these years. He doubts Pat would let anything happen to Erik.

Charles has, to his mild chagrin, been following Pat's public posts on FetBook, watching for any mention of Erik. He's been looking at pictures tagged with Erik's name as well-- anything, any scrap of contact, any voyeuristic little glimpse of him sends Charles's emotions into a tailspin. After returning from Pittsburgh, Charles spent a long time wishing he'd waited just a few minutes before telling Erik why he was there. Just a few minutes, so he could look at Erik, memorize all the little details about how he looked, how he moved-- God, what Charles would have given to see Erik _smile_.

Even now, knowing he'll see Erik again, he's starved for any glimpse of him. Raven made a gagging sound when she saw Erik's FetBook profile picture and pointed at the screen, saying, "There's where he cropped out his hand holding his camera, he took this in a mirror just like everybody else does, and-- wow, he goes around in jackets _and_ hoodies? At the same time? Is he, like, _actually_ cold-blooded or--"

Charles closed up his laptop and left the room at that; Raven came by with shortbread to apologize, later.

A few days ago Jason posted some cell phone pictures of Erik in a corset vest that made Charles glad Erik wasn't in public, or around other people-- which struck him as ludicrous nearly as soon as he realized he was feeling it. Erik's going to wear that, or something like it, in front of a crowd of nearly six hundred. Charles hardly has any business saying something absurd such as _Wear something less devastating, I don't want any of these people to think they have a right to look at you that way._

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he unlocks the screen to find another text message from Erik, much to his surprise.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Thank you for asking.]

Even focusing as hard as he can on the bond, Charles doesn't sense any sarcasm or recrimination in Erik. It's hard to believe. Still, if they're falling back on rote politeness, at least Charles's family has given him years of experience at that.

 **Charles Xavier:** [I appreciate your taking the time to explain.]

Another gap in the conversation, this time filled with a lingering sense of something that might be sadness. Charles steels himself for the next message, and when it comes in, he sags a little more in his chair. At this rate he'll be laid out on the floor by the time the exam's finished.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [You'll be here the day after tomorrow?]

 **Charles Xavier:** [Yes, the 20th, probably around 8.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Jason and Kurt are taking the wedding party out somewhere that evening, I'm not sure where yet. I probably won't be back until late.]

 **Charles Xavier:** [I understand you'll be busy.]

There's a lengthy pause, and a certain sense of confusion coming through the bond. Charles can't imagine what he could say to clear that confusion up, though; he's promising to keep his distance, what more does Erik want?

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I'm afraid so. We'll see each other at the reception if nothing else.]

There it is. _Nothing else._ The writing's been on the wall this whole time; Charles just hasn't let himself look at it.

One of his students comes up to his desk and sets her blue book down. "Have a good winter break, Professor," she whispers, and then she's off.

He doesn't receive any further text messages, not that he was expecting them. As the class starts trickling forward with their exams, he almost hopes some of them are unreadable; he'll be in Boston for a full five days before the wedding with nothing to do but mark them.

\---

"Was that Emma Frost?" Pat asks, coming up and resting a hand on Erik's shoulder. "What did she want?"

Erik isn't sure how to answer that. His eyes are still wide, and his chest still feels tight with adrenaline. "I think she was--" _Flirting_ doesn't really feel like the right word. "Interested," he says instead. When Pat's eyes narrow, he quickly adds, "It's all right. I turned her down, she was gracious about it."

It's not every day a dominant makes advances on Erik-- it's not even every other day, or every week. It hasn't been common in a while now, not since he started buzzing his hair down and dressing in t-shirts and leather jackets, feeling like himself instead of like someone's idea of a sub.

In Boston, though, he's been more conservative about the way he's dressed, and he's started shaving every day. Helping Pat with the little details of the wedding means speaking to a large number of people who expect a more refined look than a t-shirt from Iron Maiden's Powerslave tour and jeans that are so worn at the knees they're likely to tear at any given moment. He's not in a suit today, just a button-down shirt and a pair of grey wool trousers, along with a trenchcoat, but apparently it's enough to get the wrong sort of attention now and then.

If that _was_ the wrong sort of attention. Erik's not overly susceptible to dominants-- apart from one, and _that's_ not likely to happen, Charles has been almost adamant about keeping his distance-- but a dominant who walks up to him with a confident expression and a psionic mutation...

"I know she's a little-- forthright," Pat says, still frowning a bit as Emma disappears around a corner. "But as long as she backed off when you asked her to..."

He almost hadn't. Hearing her voice in his head was enough to get him halfway to his knees in the middle of the fucking art museum. _«I'm Emma... oh, and you're Erik. Erik, I have a lovely floor back at my house, perhaps you'd like to spend some time on it.»_

No wonder Charles had picked up on what he'd been feeling. Distress wasn't what Erik might have named it, but he can't deny he was rattled by the desire to drop to his knees. He's been careful about that; he's been so careful, it's been years since he even tried submitting to someone, he didn't even think he needed it anymore. Not from anyone else, anyway. But it was hard not to feel tempted the moment she sent thoughts into his mind. Fuck. Maybe he'd be that easy for anyone who can transmit thoughts. Maybe he'll spend the rest of his life chasing that, if he and Charles never manage to find common ground.

He shakes that line of thought off. "She was entirely respectful. She backed off completely when I said no."

"Good."

Erik reaches into his pocket; his phone buzzed while he and Emma were talking. When he looks at the display and finds concerned text messages from Charles, he exhales softly, quickly sending Charles a message in return: _I'm fine, thank you._

Charles can feel him. It still takes him off-guard every time. Charles is out there, not even very far away, and he can feel Erik through the bond.

Pat wraps her arm around Erik's waist and squeezes him. "Okay. Do you need a minute?"

"If we have it."

"We've got it, it's not a problem. Take your time."

Another text from Charles. Erik looks down at it, struggling to keep his composure.

 **Charles Xavier:** [I don't want to intrude, but it's difficult to feel that much distress from you and do nothing. Please tell me what's happening.]

 _Difficult? Is it?_ Erik hardly knows what to make of that. Their emails aren't particularly intimate or emotional, and their texts have been just as superficial. Maybe Charles only means that it's unpleasant getting strong feelings from Erik; he went eight years without them, after all. Erik can't imagine it would be any easier to integrate feelings from Charles, if the bond came back for him.

But he'd take them. It wouldn't matter how painful or difficult it was.

He straightens and pulls gently away from Pat. "Let me just..."

"If that's Jason, could you remind him to be home by six, please?"

"It's..." Erik finishes sending a few more messages of reassurance and shakes his head. "It's not Jason. Charles was asking me if I'm all right."

"Oh." Pat's eyebrows shoot up, and Erik knows she isn't going to leave it at that. "How is he?"

"He's fine. As far as I know he's fine."

"I saw his name on the guest list, and I wondered, but if you're friendly with him..."

This really isn't a conversation Erik wants to have in the middle of the art museum. "I'm ready whenever you are, should we go upstairs?"

"Of course."

As they're walking around and Pat's making notes about the space, Erik digs into his pocket for his phone again. He can't think of anything else to add, really, so he just falls back on what he said earlier and thanks Charles, again, for asking after him. Charles's rigorously polite _I appreciate your taking the time to explain_ leaves Erik fumbling for something else to say, anything else. He can't feel Charles the way Charles can feel him; sometimes these ephemeral things, the text messages and the FetBook status updates and the emails, all so far from what he wants, are the only things reminding him that Charles really is out there, really does exist.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [You'll be here the day after tomorrow?]

 **Charles Xavier:** [Yes, the 20th, around 8.]

Erik sighs, following along behind Pat; at this point he can barely even pretend he's taking in what the events manager is saying about table setup.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Jason and Kurt are taking the wedding party out somewhere that evening, I'm not sure where yet. I probably won't be back until late.]

 **Charles Xavier:** [I understand you'll be busy.]

 _Too busy for my soulmate?_ No, that's not fair-- what they are to each other is more complicated than that. Charles hasn't put a name on it any more than Erik has, in letters or emails or texts. For all Erik knows, Charles only _wants_ to see him for a few minutes at the reception; he took off quickly enough the last time they were face-to-face.

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [I'm afraid so. We'll see each other at the reception if nothing else.]

He walks through the reception space with Pat, hand in his pocket just to be certain he doesn't miss the vibration should another text message come.

It doesn't.

\---

**December 19, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**! You have [1] notification!

 _Friend request accepted:_ **Magda Maximoff**

 _Status updated:_ Did a walkthrough of the museum space with Pat yesterday. We're supposed to set up all those tables in six hours? Does someone have self-duplication as a mutation? If so, I hope ey volunteers to help.  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ I don't have self-duplication, but I volunteer. :)  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Magda! I just got your "friend" request. Hope I successfully added you. Are you coming to the wedding?  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ You could have knocked me over with a feather when I got the invite, I totally said yes. Turns out Jason's mom knows my mom. Go figure. How are you? How long has it been, five years? How are you doing?  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ Also, how are you? And how are you? And also how are you? Because I didn't ask that enough the first time.  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ Also also, it took me a little while to figure out who you were because you've changed last names since I saw you... I had to see a picture first. You're not going by Shaw anymore?  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Sebastian died this past June, so no, I'm not.  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ Awkward! Awkward! Sorry! Awkward! Can I make it up to you with dinner?  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ I'll PM you my number, we'll work out a time. It'll be nice to get caught up.  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ :) I'm glad you think so, I think so too.

\---

Raven ducks her head into Charles's bedroom. "Good grief, what the hell did the wardrobe do to you? Did you just find out it doesn't go to Narnia after all?"

Charles yanks a suit out of the wardrobe, glares at it, shoves it back inside, and pulls out another one. "I'm not packed yet. And you should probably pack yourself, especially if you're planning on wearing one of those dresses you bought last week instead of just morphing your gown this time."

"Haven't decided yet," Raven says. Charles shoves his suit back into the wardrobe and finds a third. That'll do. He slams the wardrobe door, then tosses the suit on the bed. "What are you slamming around about?"

"I'm not slamming around," Charles says, opening one of the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe and shoving it closed with a bang. "I'm shutting doors. And drawers."

"By slamming them."

"I'm just not having a good day. All right?" Charles snaps, pulling out a stack of clean undershirts and shutting-- fine, _slamming_ \-- this drawer, too.

Raven doesn't jump at the noise. She leans against the doorframe. "When I'm in a mood like this, you always nag me to talk about it."

"Then that was a mistake." Charles doubles back to the wardrobe for socks and boxers, not bothering to cherrypick the silk ones or the flattering ones. What would be the point? No one's going to see them anyway. He's suddenly glad he booked the Reading Suite at the Hotel Commonwealth. He probably won't be out of his room much. 

"Wow." Raven shakes her head at him. "Admitting you were wrong about something. You really must be upset."

Charles thumps the drawer shut and tosses socks and boxers onto his bed along with the suit. "I was wrong about something. All right? I've been wrong about most things, I'm _sorry._ Just... leave it."

"Did Erik do something?" Raven's frowning now. "Do I need to take time off to kick his ass while we're in Boston?"

"No! For God's sake..." Charles casts around; yes, he brought his suitcase up earlier, good. He shoves clothes into it, pauses and remembers to add jumpers and jumper vests. It's December, it's Boston, he'll likely need them. "He hasn't done anything. And he certainly hasn't done anything that merits any sort of retribution from my friends."

"Except make you slam doors and drawers and wander around looking like he knocked you down and kicked you while you were down there."

Charles rubs at his face with both hands. "Would you please just-- stop. This isn't helping."

"Okay. Then what would?" Raven steps into the room, slow and careful, reaching out to stroke his arm. "I can help you pack. Or I could put more of that jazz stuff you like on your iPod for the trip. Or I could make tea. Tea always helps."

He's gentle about it, but he moves her hand off his arm, pressing her back a step. "I appreciate it, but there's nothing you can do. I just need to sort through this alone. Please."

For a few seconds, it doesn't look like she's going to let it go at that. But finally, she says, "Okay. But if you change your mind, if there's anything I can do, tell me."

"I will."

Much later, it occurs to Charles that he probably doesn't have to worry about the stunning auburn-haired lawyer from Boston who turned up on Erik's FetBook, not that he looked her up and discovered her outstanding work as a staff lawyer for the nonprofit Mutant Legal Defense Group in Boston or anything of the sort. As far as he's been able to tell, Erik spent every morning in Pittsburgh between that night of the ill-considered text messages and the day he left for Boston getting extremely well-laid. Any mild dissatisfaction Erik felt at the end of those sessions probably had to do with needing to go to work.

He hasn't been feeling any inexorable sexual-activity arousal since Erik got to Boston. Apparently his partner's not with him yet. Ey'll probably arrive in time to be his plus-one at the wedding.

Charles considers getting out of bed and slamming some more drawers and cabinets, but instead he curls up on his side and sulks himself to sleep.


	9. Rocky Start (9/9) - 2008.12

**December 20, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**!

_Status updates, **Charles Xavier** :_

**12/20/2008:** Leaving for Boston this afternoon. Students wondering when exam scores will be posted: please no more PMs or emails, they'll be up by the 30th, as stated in the syllabus. Also keep in mind that your final comprises no more than 6% of your grade, so if you've done well to date, you most likely have nothing to worry about.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I'm so pleased you'll be here for the wedding. Looking forward to seeing you!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Likewise! And congratulations again.  
→ _Tony Stark:_ Is anyone on the entire coast not invited to this shindig? Seems like half of LA is going to be there, too. I'll save you a spot at the bar.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ It certainly has shaped up to be the social event of the season, hasn't it? See you there, Tony.  
→ _Alex Summers:_ We're going to be there on the 22nd!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Ring me when you get into town, then... if you're up for it, we could meet for dinner.  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ Sounds good. See you in Beantown.  
→ _Jean Grey:_ Save me a dance at the wedding!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ I'll save you two, Jean. :)  
→ _Sally Blevins:_ Both our families are annoyed at us for making plans on Xmas, but I couldn't miss it. Looking forward to seeing you and Raven there! Are you on the groom's side, or the groom's? ;-)  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ :) We'll be on Kurt Wagner's side, Sally. See you there!  
→ _Emma Frost:_ Do I really have to find out about this through FetBook, of all things? If you're going to be in Boston, we should get together.  
→ _Peter Wallace:_ We still have your favorite armbinders, oiled and in top condition, of course.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Emma, certainly. The 22nd? And Peter, I'm afraid that won't be relevant, thank you.  
→ _Emma Frost:_ The 22nd doesn't work for us. I'll get back to you with plans. And Peter's in a timeout for impertinence. I wouldn't want you to think I've lost my touch, Charles.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Never crossed my mind for a moment.  
→ _Sharon Smith:_ omg. if u r going 2 b in town look me up! =^;^=  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Will do! It'll be lovely to catch up, Ronny. It's been too long.  
→ _Lilandra Neramani:_ I've been out of town and away from reliable internet access for a while, so I haven't had a chance to answer your email. I'm surprised I can get Fetbook to load. I won't be back in Boston til February. Sorry to miss you.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ So am I, Lilandra. Well, there's always next time.

\---

"What's up?" Magda asks. Erik's got his phone in hand, and he's checking FetBook for what seems like the thirtieth time during lunch. Kurt, he knew about... Alex Summers and Armando Muñoz seem to comment on every status update Charles posts... Tony Stark? The industrialist who shows up in the tabloids? Sally Blevins, the name sounds familiar-- when he goes to click on her profile picture, he actually startles. _Sally._ From high school. He heard her family moved after that day, the day Mort, Jason and Erik got her away from her human attackers and fought back. But only a matter of days after that fight, Sebastian cut Erik's bond and took him away from everything in his old life. Jason kept in touch with her for a while and mentioned she was doing well, but it's still a pleasant surprise to see Sally's all right, she's been all right all these years... and she knows Charles. How does she know Charles?

 _Emma Frost?_ God. How close are _they_ , she's a telepath, what if she tells him how badly Erik wanted to go to his knees for her... although at least Charles turned her and her submissive down, that's something at least. "Not relevant," what does that mean? Charles isn't interested in putting armbinders on Peter now because... what? He has someone else?

Magda strokes her fingertips down over the multi-metallic link bracelet she's wearing, and Erik sits up with a jolt. Maybe it's because he had his hands on that metal five years ago, but he can practically feel that touch in his spine. It's... good, actually. "Erik! Come on, put the phone down."

"I'm sorry." Erik shuts the phone off and puts it back in his pocket. "I shouldn't be letting myself get distracted. What you were saying about the _Stands vs. Massachusetts_ case, that's fantastic, congratulations..."

"Right, congratulations." Magda strokes her bracelet one more time before sitting back. "Tell me about em."

"What--" Erik's already reaching for his phone again; he forces himself to ignore the urge. "Who?"

"Whoever it is that's making you glare at your phone. New emfriend?" She winces. "Recent ex?"

"My soulmate," Erik blurts out. Fuck it. Why not? He told Marvin, back at the club; there's no reason he can't tell Magda, they were close once.

Close enough that she frowns, and of course she does: she only knew half the story. "You told me Sebastian died," she says slowly. "What do you mean, your soulmate?"

Erik slumps in his chair, reaching out for his wineglass. It's still half-full, but he doesn't actually take it in hand, he just plays with the stem for a moment. "Sebastian wasn't my real soulmate," he says quietly. "Sebastian was a bound-by-choice fanatic who spliced himself into my bond when I was seventeen."

Every time he says it, it feels like a weight's coming off his shoulders; unfortunately, every time he says it, people reel back in horror and shock. Magda manages to keep her expression even-- as a lawyer, he supposes she must have some practice at that-- but she still reaches forward for his hand, her fingertips glancing against his before he pulls away.

"Erik, that's... my God." She swallows. "And you found the real one after Sebastian died?"

"Yes."

She nods; he can practically see her putting the pieces together. "Oh my God," she murmurs. "And that's why you couldn't just--"

"--couldn't just give him up, when the two of us were together. I had reason to believe that blocking one bond would destroy the other."

"I take it things still aren't exactly straightforward," she says, pointing down-- through the table, toward his pocket. "Where's the real one?"

"Here." Erik sighs. "Here in Boston. He's going to be at the wedding."

"But you're out with me." Magda winces again. "Erik, if I pulled you away from something..."

"Don't worry. I'm sure he's finding a way to stay occupied." It's unfair to say. Erik says it anyway.

"Ouch." Magda reaches for his hand. "So... no shot at reconciliation, then?"

"I want there to be." He takes her hand gratefully, lets her squeeze his fingers. "We weren't able to feel each other for eight full years, and even now... he feels me, but I can't feel him. I remember how I felt about him, though. It's hard not wanting that back."

"But..."

"But we're not teenagers anymore." Erik shrugs. "We haven't seen each other in person since September, when he found me. I suppose we've got this one last opportunity to put our cards on the table and see if we have a chance."

"If you want some moral support at the wedding... I'm there on my own." She gives him a little smile. "Haven't really had a lot of luck these last few years, plus with work... I'm way too busy for emfriends these days. But if you want to go as friends, I'm more than happy to be there for you."

"I'd like that," Erik says, brushing his thumb against the back of her knuckles. "Thank you."

He's able to keep his hands off his phone for the rest of their lunch, and when he shares a cab back to her place, he kisses her cheek and then waves goodbye. 

It isn't until he gets back to the Wyngardes' that he checks Fetbook again, and of course by then two more people have shown up to say hello to Charles. Sharon Smith, is that Jason's college emfriend Sharon? It must be, the cat ears in her message are a dead giveaway.

Over and over, he's reminded that the mutant community really isn't that large. It seems as if he may have only been separated from Charles by one or two points of connection, all this time. If he'd told his story to more of his fellow mutants over the years, could someone have made the connection, might they have mentioned Charles to him?

Not that Erik knows exactly what happened to Charles when they were separated. Charles has never elaborated on the things he said when they first met, and Erik hasn't asked, even though he's brooded on the words more than once since that day: _I never knew what happened to you, I was in a coma, it took months to recover and I never got everything back-- I always had to_ wonder _and_ try _and search just in case you were out there..._ That's one of the many topics that's seemed too intimate to broach in letters or texts.

The last commenter-- so far-- is Lilandra Neramani. That's not a familiar name, and as far as Erik can tell, she's human. Well, at least one of Charles's ex-emfriends won't be there.

Morbidly curious about the most overt scening offer in the responses, Erik clicks on Peter Wallace's profile. It's still a hassle to him trying to find anything on Fetbook, but he gets to the photos and discovers a slim, handsome sub with a lot of wavy dark hair and absolutely flawless form, whether kneeling or bound or standing leashed at his mistress's side. Erik's stomach feels knotted and hot looking at the two of them, thinking of Charles co-domming with Emma, imagining the kind of perfect obedience that Charles must be used to.

Maybe Jason had a point, when he was trying to warn Erik about all this. He said Charles was big with the New York mutant set; it looks like he's been intimately acquainted with half the mutants attending the wedding. Erik's going to end up twisting up everyone's silverware if he has to watch people flirting with Charles all night.

He should probably ask. It would be better to be prepared. He could text; Charles is in town now.

He might end up interrupting something. There's no way to know. They're even in the same city now, and Erik still can't feel him.

It's better not to think about that right now, so he pushes it all aside, reaching out for a chunk of metal-- bronze, this time-- and gets to work on wedding favors. The number of votive holders Pat wants is a little staggering, but even after hearing the number, Erik wasn't put off. Votive holders are easy, not fine detail work; all Erik has to do is form small decorations, over and over, fitted around glass. Each one is different, each one a small stretch of his increasingly powerful ability.

Every time he touches metal and makes it do what he wants, he feels a little stronger. Every time he shapes metal, it feels like he's getting a part of himself back. He's been waiting for a chance to start his life over again for years and years, waiting for Sebastian to let him go, waiting to find out if his soulmate's really out there or not.

He's got answers to everything now, but he still needs to work out what he wants to do with his life.

It's a question too huge to be sorted through now, but the soothing feel of stretching metal around glass calms him down and keeps him busy until he gets tired enough to go to sleep.

\---

**December 21, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**!

 **Erik Lehnsherr** has posted **[17]** new pictures!

_[Erik's pictures are all of various decorated votive holders, on a kitchen counter.]_

_Status updates, **Erik Lehnsherr** :_

**12/21/2008:** 182 down, 568 to go. I took some pictures of my favorites and put them up here so the family could see them... don't worry, I'll have the rest done in time!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Wait, Mom's making you make 750 of those things? There are only 600 people coming, at least last I checked! Mom, what gives?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ What if some of them break? And people might want extras. And if not we can keep the rest!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ What the hell are you going to do with 150 extra votive holders? Open a restaurant?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ What are you doing messing around on FetBook? You need to go pick up Ben's ring bearer outfit!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Erik, don't worry if you don't make as many votive holders as Mom says, seriously. I remember when this wedding was going to be 300 people!  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ If you think I'm doing anything other than what your mother says this week, you are insane.  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ :( I'm not that bad! I promise!  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ You're lovely. I really don't mind at all.  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ See? Someone appreciates me! :(  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I also appreciate you, Pat!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ FINE. EVERYONE SUCK UP BUT ME.  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Kurt, could you please bamf Jason to the tailoring shop and pick up Ben's ring bearer outfit?

_Status updates, **Kurt Wagner** :_

**12/21/2008:** _Checked in at:_ [Bespoke Too Soon Tailors, Boston, MA]

 **12/21/2008:** Waiting while Jason picks up ring bearer outfit!  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ I LOVE HAVING A TELEPORTER IN THE FAMILY  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Show-off. :)  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ You love it! :D~  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ I love YOU.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ I wonder, do you have something old, new, and borrowed for the wedding? You have something blue already. :D~  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Does the groom count as something blue? Mom?  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ Would you guys please just get back here instead of flirting on FetBook, we have a million things to do!!

\---

 **Charles Xavier:** [I saw your work on FetBook this morning but didn't want to interrupt the conversation in the comments by speaking up on the post itself. They're beautiful, as always.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Thank you. I'm up to 217 now. Still a lot to do, of course. I hope you're settling in all right. Did your friends find you?]

 **Charles Xavier:** [The hotel is very comfortable. I haven't seen anyone yet... no solid plans until the wedding.]  
 **Charles Xavier:** [Did you have a nice dinner with your friend|]  
 _Cancel Message?_ **Yes**  
 **Charles Xavier:** [If you have any time at all free, I could meet you|]  
 _Cancel Message?_ **Yes**  
 **Charles Xavier:** [Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help. I can't claim any experience with weddings but I'm more than capable of lifting, carrying, dealing with caterers, and so on.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Pat's pretty much got us all working like a well-oiled machine, but thank you.]  
 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [And speaking of... apparently I need to go hand off the  
last-minute instructions to the baker.]

 **Charles Xavier:** [Have a good day.]

 **Erik Lehnsherr:** [Thank you. I hope you do, too.]

\---

**December 22, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**!

 _Status updated:_ Chag Chanukah Sameach!  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ :)

\---

"Alex! Armando!" Charles ushers both of them inside his suite at the Hotel Commonwealth, beaming. As soon as they're out of range of the door, Alex pounces Charles with a hug, while Armando sighs and flattens his hand out on Alex's head. "Somebody missed you," Armando says.

"You're ridiculous," Charles laughs, easing Alex back a bit. "We just saw each other last week."

"So what?" Alex grins and leans in for a kiss, which Charles keeps brief and chaste, despite Alex's petulant little sigh. Armando tugs him back by the waist, and Alex leans back against him.

"How's it going?" Armando asks, once he's corralled Alex. "Everything quiet here?"

"Yes," Charles says, his own sigh only a bit less petulant than Alex's.

"We could fix that for--" Alex lets out a squeak as Armando hugs him. "Watch the ribs, watch the _ribs_..."

"Well, there's a few days yet." Armando glances around the room. "Wow. I like the decor. Have you been here before?"

"No, but I saw the suite online and thought it sounded like me." Charles smiles. "Care for the grand tour?"

The Reading Suite is two rooms, dark wood furniture, photographs of authors and book-themed art lining the walls. There are wingback chairs and plenty of cushions on the floor, and the reading room has a large, deep window seat in the back corner as well as the usual amenities: television, desk, power outlets for laptop and phone. Armando looks over the library, smiling. "You do fit right in, don't you."

Alex immediately takes over the window seat, stretching out with a grin. "You'd have to squish pretty close to fit three on here," he says, both eyebrows up.

"Honestly. The way you act, anybody would think you don't get enough at home," Armando teases.

"The way you complain, anybody would think a nineteen-year-old sub's wearing Mr. Adaptation out," Alex teases back.

"Don't tell me your mutation's finally found its limits," Charles gets in, and when Armando gives him a look that radiates smug confidence, he chuckles, shaking his head. "Really, though--"

Alex pulls himself out of his sprawl, sitting up straighter. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not totally serious, you know that." This time it isn't Armando who passes his hand over Alex's head; he does it himself. "Just, if you change your mind, let us know."

"Thank you." Charles breathes a little more easily at that; there is a certain amount of temptation, after all these months without. And with Erik seeing someone else and all the times he's rebuffed Charles-- not without cause, Charles knows that, he's lucky Erik's willing to keep in any sort of touch with him at all-- still, it feels good to be wanted, even just for casual scening. But he owes it to Erik to let him know if he starts scening again, in case Erik ever feels it through the bond, and Charles is resolved not to do that yet, at least not until after they meet-- "however briefly"-- at the wedding.

He settles in next to Alex on the window seat, unsurprised when Alex ducks under his arm to get it around his shoulders. It's not all that tight a fit for three, when Armando sits as well; Charles reaches for his hand and squeezes it. Right now, it's just what he needs, some friendly contact and closeness. "So how are you two enjoying Boston so far?"

"It's not bad. Not as cold as I expected. No snow, that's a bonus." Armando laughs. "Just because I can adapt against cold doesn't mean I like walking through slush."

"Fair enough." Charles's gaze finally lands on the small brown shopping bag Armando's been holding all this time. "And you've picked up a souvenir along the way..."

"No, actually, this we got at home. Sort of at home." Armando slips a small wrapped box out of the bag and gives it to Charles. "It's for you. Merry early Christmas."

"I hope this isn't anything too nice, I only got you books!" Charles blurts.

Armando just laughs. "No such thing as too nice. Open it."

Charles unwraps the paper and finds a jewelry box with an S&S logo on top that's become quite familiar from Charles's websurfing sessions. He opens it and stares at a pair of cufflinks... not just any cufflinks, of course; these are one of Erik's designs, and they're a pair Charles particularly admired, interlocking spirals of matte and polished steel. Like most of Erik's jewelry, they show off the beauty of the metal itself.

He looks up at Armando and Alex, speechless.

After a few moments, Alex bursts out with, "That's a good kind of surprised face, right? You like it?"

Charles can only nod, not trusting his voice.

"I know you were trying to figure out if it would insult him to buy anything from his shop, so I thought we could cut out the question for you. If things work out-- well, we're going to miss you. But we want you to be happy," Armando says. "Maybe it'll help."

Maybe it will. After Erik put him off via text yesterday for what feels like the hundredth time, Charles spent yesterday evening preparing himself for the possibility, the _probability_ , that nothing between them will ever change. That this distance will continue, and Charles will feel it through the bond as Erik grows happy with someone else.

Or much worse, that for the rest of his life, Charles will sense sadness or fear through the bond when he has no standing to do much more than ask Erik what's wrong and hope for an answer.

This morning he woke up resolved that if this distance is implacable, it can at least be friendly, and posted Chanukah greetings to Fetbook. He wasn't prepared for the warm feelings that surged from Erik just before Charles got the notification of Erik's reply. There was no way to characterize that emotion but _affectionate,_ strongly affectionate and pleased, and he can't bring himself to write off the timing as a coincidence. After that, Charles can believe again that a gesture might make a positive difference.

Finally finding words, Charles hugs Armando and murmurs, "You're a better friend than I deserve."

"I don't think so." He flashes a huge grin. "I am pretty great though, huh."

Charles laughs. "Yes. You really are."

"Hey, I was in on it too!" says Alex. "I mean, basically my part of it was to say 'that's a good idea,' but moral support counts for something."

"Get in on this, then," Charles beckons him, and he hugs them both tightly. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life. Don't think I've lost sight of that."

Alex says, "Yeah, well, I'll try not to be too pissed off if your soulmate's not into foursomes."

Armando and Charles look at each other and lose it laughing; Armando rests his hand on Alex's head. "Boy, you are hell on a moment."

"I'm just saying!"

As if in answer to what Charles is feeling, a wash of happiness rolls through the bond. Over and over, for the past few days, Charles has been getting small bursts of enjoyment from Erik. He's started to think it has to do with those wedding favors Erik's been making for Pat Wyngarde; he feels a stretch of concentration, and then a flourish of satisfaction and pride. They haven't met in person, but it's been a soothing thing to feel.

He sends his own sense of tentative hope back, as much as he can. The last he knew, Erik still wasn't feeling him, but this wouldn't be a bad thing to start with.

\---

**December 24, 2008**

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**!

 _Status updated:_ DONE. Had the house all to myself tonight while Pat, Rick, Jason and Kurt went to Christmas Eve services/Mass/whatever it was (actually, they're still gone). 750, all unique. I think the later ones are better, actually; I had to stretch myself at the end to keep coming up with new designs.  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Will there be photos? I'm looking forward to seeing them.  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Yes, and Pat says she's going to have the wedding photographer take a number of shots of the votive holders themselves, so I'll have something professional for my website.

\---

The Wyngardes' house is cold and quiet, and for hours there's been nothing but Erik and metal. It's been a good night, but he can't help thinking about Charles, barely a few miles away.

«Are you out there?» He's in bed, looking up at the canopy here in one of the guest rooms. «Can you hear me?»

He thought that over and over, years ago in Boston. Charles couldn't hear him then; Erik isn't surprised that he can't hear Erik now. He's so close, though. Erik could pick up the phone, call him. He _could_ , but there's so much he wants to say. The phone doesn't seem like it could possibly be enough.

They'll see each other in person tomorrow. Maybe he'll figure out what he wants to say by then.

\---

The knock on Charles's door is a surprise, given the time, but when he stretches out his awareness to feel who's out there, he smiles. «Raven! I thought you were going to be out all night...» He opens the door, and the smile fades a bit. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just... yeah." Raven's hair is mussed, not like her at all, and he can feel how rattled she is. "I've got this feeling from my soulmate. She's excited."

"Come in, we'll have a drink."

"Yeah." Raven exhales and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

One pre-mixed Cosmopolitan later, Raven says, "She's not any closer. That's the weird part."

"Oh?"

"This feels like some pretty big-deal excitement. Not just, oh, I'm going to a party tomorrow excitement, but... _we're about to meet_ excitement."

If Charles were a better person, that wouldn't sting so badly. Then again, if he hadn't fouled everything up in the first place... and in the second place... well. He's not going to think about that now; Raven needs him. He sits next to her on the sofa and reaches out for her hand; she takes his and squeezes. "Do you think you're ready for that?"

"I don't know. I just started feeling it when I was out with friends, and it's been building and building all night. I don't know how I'm going to get to sleep."

"I could get you some pillows and some blankets. You could stay here," Charles offers.

Raven laughs. "Yeah... no," she says. "I think I'd rather be in my own room tonight. If you know what I mean."

Suddenly he does, and he nods, trying not to feel too rueful about it. If things had been different, he and Erik might have had this sort of night before meeting. A night full of anticipation, shared and magnified as the excitement passed back and forth between them.

Even these last few days Erik hasn't seemed to have _that_ sort of excitement in the mornings. Charles can't help but be relieved, at least a little. Erik's emfriend must be arriving quite last-minute, or maybe ey isn't going to show at all. It'll be easier to see Erik tomorrow without the uncomfortably certain knowledge that Erik spent the morning in someone else's bed. Arms. _Life._

"I think I'll have another," he says, lifting his glass. "We could put on a film."

"Seriously?"

"If it would get your mind off things for a while."

"That sounds good," Raven says. "Is there some kind of juice in there? Straight juice, not a mixer." She nods at the minibar.

"Several." Charles waves at it. "Help yourself."

After Raven leaves, Charles stretches out in bed, alone, thinking. He has the cufflinks, and he'll wear those tomorrow. It might not be enough, but maybe Erik will see it for the overture it is: a step forward, Charles's hope for a second chance.


	10. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (1/11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _flat-out guessing_ about number of chapters in the Christmas Day part of this story! Number to be adjusted if needed. ♥

**December 25, 2008**

"Stop fidgeting," Erik tells Jason. "You look fine."

Jason strokes his fingers through his hair again, and again, taking in his reflection in the illusion he's projecting in front of them. He's in full white tie, a tux with tails, an ensemble a lot like the elaborate eveningwear costumes he projects for himself when he generates his Mastermind illusions. The real thing looks just as spectacular on him now.

Kurt's a few floors up in a setup room that has a mirror; Jason's a few steps from the gallery they're having the ceremony in, trying not to squirm out of his skin in sheer nervousness. Little sparks shoot out from his hands, occasionally bursting forth from the seams of his tux; he's almost vibrating with excess energy. "It's not even about how I look, it's trying to keep the illusions in. I'm trying not to do stuff that'll freak out the extended family--"

"At your _wedding_?" Erik asks, frowning. "Of all the times you should get to be yourself--"

"I'm not gonna be holding everything back for everybody," Jason promises. "Kurt's going to get a lot. And if anybody else can pick up on it, well, I figure another psionic mutant isn't going to give me a hard time, not here." He shrugs. "But even when it comes to mutants, not everybody's comfortable with psionics. I don't think people really want to spend the night dodging comets and getting blinded by fireworks."

"Still." Erik steps back, lifts both hands and makes a beckoning gesture. "Get some things out of your system now, while we're still alone."

"You sure?" But Jason's already stretching his arms to his sides, his wedding tux morphing into a vintage Edwardian suit, a banner behind him that reads THE GREAT AND POWERFUL JASON WYNGARDE ~ MASTERMIND ~ MASTER OF ILLUSION. As Erik watches, another banner unfurls to Jason's right, one with an Art Nouveau-style poster showing Kurt and Jason kissing, flowers and hearts twined into the border surrounding their images. Above them, the poster reads ONE NIGHT ONLY ~ MASTERMIND'S GREATEST SHOW EVER, and below them, it reads NOT A HOAX ~ NOT AN ILLUSION ~ NOT AN IMAGINARY STORY.

Erik laughs. "I wish I could take a picture."

"I just wish I could do this all night," Jason groans. The illusions shimmer away, leaving Jason in his real tuxedo. "Where did I put my gloves?"

"Right here." Erik hands them over, and Jason slips them on. No top hat, no cane, not for the ceremony, and of course the gloves will have to come off when it's time to exchange rings. Still, Jason looks-- "You look amazing," Erik says quietly. "I'm so happy for you."

"Jesus, come here," Jason says, a little choked up, and Erik pulls Jason into his arms. Jason's started shaking, but he calms down as Erik holds him. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I get to do this."

Erik feels a swift pang at that, but between comforting Jason and not wanting to send that out through the bond, he grabs hold of it as quickly as he can. "You never know what's going to happen," he murmurs, trying to focus on that, trying to send _that_ through the bond.

Charles is going to be on Kurt's side of the gallery; Erik might even be able to see him during the ceremony. He shouldn't be hoping for that. Charles will be as much of a distraction as anything short of a fire could be. But he's still wondering what it would be like, listening to his best friend pledge life and love to the man he's chosen, watching the soulmate _Erik_ never had the opportunity to choose all the while. He's glad he chose the corset vest, and not just because it's a comfort to feel all the metal boning holding him upright.

The door opens; Pat Wyngarde steps inside, quickly shutting the door behind her. "Everything ready?" she asks. "You're on."

" _We're_ on, you mean." Jason offers her his arm, and Erik swings the door open with his ability.

Pat slips her hand into the crook of Jason's elbow, smiling ear-to-ear; Erik glances at the hallway, wondering if he should step out to give them a shade of privacy. Then again, no; if Jason wanted privacy, he'd blank Erik out.

"You look so handsome," Pat tells Jason. "I've never been so proud of you."

Jason laughs. "I was half expecting you to be fighting off tears."

"Oh, hell, no. I can't run this show holding a tissue, I need both hands free to point at stuff."

Leaning over to kiss Pat's temple, Jason smiles. "I could give you some extra hands if you wanted."

"But where would I put them in this dress?" Pat glances down at herself. She looks wonderful, done up in a stunning silver floor-length gown and full opera-length evening gloves. "Don't you worry about a thing, honey. I've got this down to a science."

"More like a military operation," Jason teases.

"Maybe I missed my calling." Pat winks at him. "Let's roll out."

For all the guests at this wedding, it's only going to be Erik and Kurt's best man standing beside the grooms at the top of the gallery. Jason's cousin Ben is already seated in the front row with a pillow for the rings, but he's six; they're not going to make him stand up through the whole ceremony. Besides, if Susan and Chris let him stand up on his own, he'll end up running off and climbing something, probably one of the more expensive statues.

So here and now, it's just Pat and Jason, and Erik and Logan. Erik met Logan at the rehearsal dinner two days ago, and he's very, very glad he did, because Logan's unique physiology might have been painfully distracting if they'd only just been meeting now. The man's entire skeleton is grafted with metal, and not just any metal-- it's adamantium. It doesn't feel anything like the observation cages Erik's dealt with during bond examinations, thank God; it's not alloyed with silver, or anything else, as far as he can tell. Whoever did this to Logan, ey must have spent a fortune. And Logan's heavier than he looks, but Erik can feel every ounce of that metal, every part of him. He can feel the claws attached to Logan's forearms, the blades that he keeps sheathed on an everyday basis.

Erik pauses as Logan looks him over. "One of us is probably supposed to offer an arm or some bullshit like that," Logan says, raising an eyebrow. "You want to flip for it?"

"Flip what?" Erik asks, only realizing when Logan's features shift into a broad smirk that it came out a little more breathless than he intended. All right, so Logan's a bit distracting even on a second meeting. Erik shakes his head. "You're not carrying any coins, and neither am I. Do you have another suggestion?"

He's relieved that Logan doesn't just say _You're the sub, act like it_. Instead, Logan tosses Erik another smirk-- he's got a whole line of them, apparently-- and says, "Rock-paper-scissors?"

"I can cheat." Erik nods down at Logan's hand and holds it in a fist shape with his ability; Logan raises an eyebrow and laughs. "I'll take yours. I'm dressed for it, anyway."

"Fair enough." Logan clears his throat and offers his arm, and Erik holds on, feeling more than a little odd. It'll probably look better in photographs than doing it the other way around, though. At least there's that.

As they reach the gallery doors, Pat glances over her shoulder at Erik. "Would you do the honors? When the music starts."

"Of course," Erik says, and as soon as he hears the first strains of the music-- a piece composed by a friend of Kurt's, as opposed to something traditional-- he swings the doors open for them.

In a traditional recognition ceremony, the crowd might wait to stand until the sub came through the doors; as it is, they stand now, as Jason escorts his mother to the front of the gallery and takes her to her seat. He takes his place at the top of the gallery, turning and waiting for Erik and Logan to take their places.

Erik holds his breath as he walks down the aisle on Logan's arm; he can feel people looking at him, but he still can't feel Charles, not yet.

But then he looks forward, up toward the front of the room, and there he is, on the aisle side of the third row, on Kurt's side of the gallery. Their eyes meet, and Erik almost stops in place; it's only the fact that Logan's still going forward that keeps Erik in motion.

He looked up images of Charles when it finally occurred to him that some of those charity events Jason was invited to probably had photo ops. Sure enough, he found dozens of pictures of Charles from countless occasions, in suit after tux after suit, standing patiently with a fixed smile for most of them, occasionally caught talking or raising an eyebrow or, a few precious times, genuinely smiling or laughing.

Even after seeing all that, Erik's floored by the sight of Charles in black tie, composed and formal and utterly handsome. And Charles is staring back, blue eyes wide, somehow looking just as overwhelmed as Erik.

Erik tears his eyes away from Charles as he and Logan reach the top of the gallery, and he takes his place at Jason's side. He can see Charles from here, and there's no one else he could possibly look at-- not Jason, not the rest of the crowd, almost not even Kurt when the telltale _BAMF_ and the slight hint of smoke announce his arrival. The woman who's walking with him is a shortish redhead who's carrying a folded white cane under her arm, and for the first time something else gets Erik's attention-- Raven, next to Charles, grabs at Charles's arm and gasps out loud as her eyes fill with tears. Charles glances behind him, takes one look at Raven's face, and suddenly they're both staring at Kurt's companion-- who turns to face Raven, sightless eyes notwithstanding, and throws the biggest smile Erik's ever seen Raven's way.

"You have to be kidding me," Jason says, laughing softly. Erik glances at him. "That's Kurt's mom, more or less-- Irene. They met when he was just a kid; she helped him get a handle on his teleportation, way back in the beginning. She's older than she looks," he adds. "I think her mutation has something to do with precognition."

"She's Raven's soulmate," Erik says quietly. There's nothing else this could be; Raven's gone a pale cerulean, and Charles rests a steadying hand on her shoulder. As Kurt helps Irene into her seat, the rest of the crowd starts to sit; Raven, instead, bolts for the row of chairs two ahead of hers, pausing when she realizes the one next to Irene's is empty. Irene blazes another smile up at her and pats the chair, and Raven sits down immediately, taking Irene's hand, swallowing back tears.

Erik meets Charles's eyes again. «You're here,» he sends out.

Charles's eyebrows lift, and he smiles at Erik, tentative, but still-- «I'm here,» he sends, and Erik nearly buckles at the knee.

«I'm so glad.»

That smile of Charles's blooms into a much, much wider one, so wide Charles presses his teeth into his lower lip in an attempt to hold some of it back. «So am I, now.»

Erik's attention gets pulled away as Jason elbows him and projects a quick, faint, DON'T ZONE OUT, YOU HAVE TO BE READY TO PULL THE RINGS OFF THE PILLOW in front of Erik's eyes. Erik blinks a few times, and forces himself to face Jason and the officiant.

«I'm sorry, I need to pay attention--»

«I understand completely. But we'll talk after...?»

« _Yes_ ,» Erik sends, as bright and fervent as he can.

He's still not sensing emotions from Charles through the bond, but when a feeling of hope and surprised pleasure starts to build, he thinks it might not just be him.

\---

The ceremony is relatively short. It's a secular ceremony, since it's not a bond recognition. On the bright side, Massachusetts is one of the states that has full recognition rights for "lifemated" couples, so it was easy to find an officiant well-versed in non-bonded ceremonies.

It's still rough for Erik, listening to their vows. Jason holds Kurt's hands and repeats the words after the officiant says them: "I choose to recognize you... my other half... bound by love and loyalty and commitment. I choose to spend my days and nights with you... to love you, honor you, and protect you... to respect you for who you are... to build a life with you... based on our _choice_..." Jason's voice breaks; Kurt bends his head and blinks back tears. "To be a part of each other's lives... now and always."

"And the ring?" the officiant prompts. Erik takes a deep breath as Ben comes up with the pillow, holding it up. Erik floats Kurt's ring into the air and looks over at Jason.

"Here we go," Jason says. He projects words into the inside of the band, and Erik takes a deep breath, engraving them.

"Do I get to see first?" Kurt asks. It draws a laugh from the crowd. Kurt beams out at them. "I might make Erik do it over if it is ridiculous...!"

"Read it," Jason says, grinning ear-to-ear. Kurt takes the ring from him and looks inside, and Erik knows it won't be too ridiculous for Kurt to wear; he's wearing the engagement ring, after all. They really were made for each other. Vying for the spotlight at the altar is definitely the sort of thing Jason would have daydreamed about when he was younger, if he'd ever daydreamed about marriage at all.

Kurt's fangs sink into his lower lip as he reads the inscription and looks at Jason. "Oh," he whispers. The ring reads _Heartmate, lovemate, lifemate. JW & KW 12-25-2008._

"Will you marry me?" Jason asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I thought he already said yes!" Pat yells back. "But cake for everybody either way!"

The crowd nearly loses it, but Kurt just grins. "Yes," he says. He hands the ring back to Jason, and Jason slips it onto his finger. The whole crowd bursts into applause.

"Hey! We're not done yet," Jason calls out, his mutation backing up his voice this time-- it booms out over the crowd and its noise. Though there's a bit more laughter, they settle down, and then it's Kurt's turn to repeat the vows Jason just spoke. It isn't word-for-word, though: where Jason said _love, honor, and protect_ , Kurt's arranged with the officiant to use the phrase _love you, honor you, protect you, and occasionally obey you_ , which draws more laughter out of the guests.

But when it's time to engrave Jason's ring, Kurt doesn't need to whisper the inscription to Erik. They discussed it days ago, and Erik did a mockup of the inscription so Kurt could sign off on it.

When Jason sees it, he struggles for a few seconds to hold everything in, but then he just shakes his head, and the room ignites with fireworks, red and white and pink, dazzling in the gallery above their heads. "I love you _so much_ ," Jason chokes out, and Erik actually has to pull his handkerchief out of his pocket and dry tears at that. Jason's been struggling all his life with people who don't understand him or don't believe in him. He's spent years and years listening to people ask questions about his ability: _How do I know you really look like that? You know those illusions aren't real, right? Shouldn't we just stick to the real thing?_

His ring reads _You are my reality. JW & KW 12-25-2008._

"Okay, stop everything, I need to kiss you early," Jason says. Kurt immediately comes forward, pulling Jason into his arms, and Jason kisses him, hard, solid, holding onto Kurt at the shoulders.

When Kurt pulls back, he lifts the ring up. "Now?"

Jason nods, an illusionary handkerchief hovering in midair and quickly wiping his cheeks for him. "Now."

Kurt slips the ring onto his finger. His smile shows off his fangs when he says, " _Mine._ "

"That's my line," Jason says, but everyone's too busy discreetly drying tears to laugh this time.

"Subs and gentledoms, and friends of all orientations," the officiant says, "may I present Jason Wyngarde and Kurt Wagner, recognized lifemates." With a wink, he adds, "You may kiss. Again."

"My turn," Kurt says, and he pounces Jason, arms and tail wrapping around him. Jason kisses him, balloon hearts flying up all around them, and Erik can't help looking over at Charles, imagining all the things they've never had a chance to share.

\---

The wedding party, small as it is, disappears first, joined by Jason's parents and Irene... and therefore Raven. Raven throws an apologetic little glance Charles's way, but she clearly isn't leaving Irene's side for anything, not that Charles blames her a bit.

And so the receiving line at the doorway to the reception hall ends up headed by the Wyngardes, Jason and Kurt, Erik and Kurt's best man, and Irene and Raven, all of them greeting each guest in turn. 

Charles swallows as he watches Erik shake hands with one person after another. Already this isn't easy, and he's not even in the queue yet. He hadn't forgotten, of course, a single detail of what Erik looks like, how striking he is, tall and lean and severe with chiseled features and faceted cheekbones, his very short hair and his piercing gaze. Still, Charles can't get enough of the sight of him. Erik takes his breath away; he's devastating in his tuxedo, so attractive it's almost intimidating.

Armando comes up from behind him and drapes an arm around his shoulders. "You okay?"

"I suppose it's bad form to try to sneak in without going through the receiving line," Charles answers.

"You're avoiding him now?"

"No, not at all." Charles smiles at Alex as he joins them. "No, it just feels as if it'll be difficult to go through the queue and rush past him. Maybe I'll wait til everyone else goes in, so I don't feel as if I have to shuffle out of the way of the people behind me."

"Uh, that's going to be a while," Alex says dubiously, looking around at all the little knots of people chit-chatting, slowly drifting toward joining the queue.

"Let's go over. We'll get behind you," says Armando. "We'll go slow, so you get a little extra time to talk to him before the line catches up with you."

Charles hugs him. "You think of everything. Thank you."

Coming face-to-face with Raven in the "parents'" section of the receiving line is just a little too surreal not to laugh at; Raven shakes her head, laughing too. "This was a surprise," Charles says, but he kisses her cheek anyway. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Raven pulls him into a strong hug. "I'm so happy you were here for this--" She eases him back and looks at Irene, both of them smiling from ear to ear. "Charles, I'd like to introduce you to Irene Adler, my soulmate. Irene, this is Charles, my brother."

Irene immediately offers Charles her hand, and Charles takes it, shaking it firmly. "It's an honor to meet you, Irene," Charles says. "Welcome to the family. I'm so glad you're with us."

"Thank you," Irene says. She adjusts his sleeve, and Charles glances down to see what she's up to-- his jacket sleeve is now tugged up just a bit more than is technically fashionable, but it shows off the cufflink perfectly. "There. Just right."

"If you don't mind my asking..." Charles raises an eyebrow. "Your mutation--"

"--is precognition. Very strong precognition."

"She knew we were going to meet today," Raven says. She slips an arm around Irene's waist, and Irene leans in against her. "But she decided to go for the full dramatic entrance anyway."

"It runs in the family," Irene says dryly. Nodding down at the far end of the line, she adds, "Kurt and I have been close for a very long time. He's like a son to me."

"Second surprise of the day," Raven says. "Congratulations, it's a boy!"

Charles laughs. "I think you'll manage."

"We'll be fine," Raven assures him, squeezing Irene again. "He and I even kind of match. Both blue..."

There's more than a little irony in this particular match: Raven, with her mutation that allows her to look like anyone she wants, and Irene, who can't see those metamorphic shifts. But Irene shakes her head at Charles. "I see _her_ ," she says. "And my precognition shows me all kinds of neat things. Believe me, I have plans to make sure she knows I think she's beautiful every day from here on out."

Charles glances down at the floor, a little abashed. "I'm not used to being on the other end of unasked questions. I apologize if that was rude."

"We're going to be getting that question a lot," Irene says. "Don't worry. I'm ready."

"When everyone's seated, I'll come find you," Raven promises. "We're holding up the line..."

"This is nothing," Irene says. She winks at Charles. "Good luck."

"Oh, God, that's right," Raven says, flinging her arms around Charles this time. "Holy shit. Okay. Good luck to you, too."

A bit awkwardly, Charles pats her on the back. "Thank you," he manages. "Enjoy meeting the rest of the guests."

"I will," Raven answers, turning a look on Irene that expresses perfectly that she's savoring the company of her bondmate, and the rest is of little consequence. Irene may not be able to visually see that expression, but she perceives it, inclining her head toward Raven, smiling warmly.

Armando slides in to say hello to Raven, and Charles takes a deep breath and moves on to face the Wyngardes. "Hello," he offers his hand. "Charles Xavier."

"I know," Pat tells him. Her handshake is strong, very firm, and her eyes lock onto his with such a penetrating gaze he almost wonders if she has some kind of latent psionic mutation herself. "We're glad you could be with us today. Thank you for sharing in our son's celebration."

"Thank you for inviting me." Charles glances down the line-- there's Rick Wyngarde, and then Kurt's best man, and... then Erik, who steals a glance over at Charles and quickly looks away, stuttering through an explanation of what he did with the rings. It's no small effort to turn back to Pat Wyngarde after that, but when he looks at her again, she has one eyebrow raised at him. It makes him stand up a bit straighter despite himself.

"Erik's been a close friend of the family for almost a decade now," Pat says. "We all love him very much."

"Thank you," Charles says again, and when that gets a somewhat nonplussed look from her, he adds, "for being there for him. I can't tell you how glad I am that he's had you."

"There's not a single one of us who wouldn't drop everything for that boy," Rick adds. He offers Charles a handshake, too, and Charles accepts. "You be nice to him, all right?"

"Rick," Pat hisses, digging her elbow into his side.

"What? It's what you were saying!"

"But I was being _subtle_."

"Sweetie, I love you with all my heart and soul, but subtlety is not your strong suit." Rick turns back to Charles, who's been adjusting both his cuffs, making sure the cufflinks show. "Erik's a good man. He deserves to be happy."

Charles's throat closes entirely, and Pat reaches forward, taking him gently by both arms. "What my bondmate is _trying_ to say is-- good luck." She pats him on the arm. "Go on, say hi to Logan and then take your time. We'll stall the line if we need to."

It's a rather unexpected kindness; Charles wasn't sure whether Rick was trying to tell him to shove off. But Rick nods in agreement with Pat, and Charles manages to stumble out another "Thank you," making more than he can still keep track of, as he moves on to Kurt's best man.

He has a handshake like iron, or something even stronger. "Logan," he says. Charles wonders if that's his first or last name.

"Charles Xavier."

"Nice to meet you, Chuck."

"Charles," Charles corrects automatically. "You must have known Kurt for some time?"

"Yep."

"I've never seen him so happy. It was a beautiful ceremony."

"What you said, bub." Logan's nose wrinkles, and he looks from Erik to Charles and shakes his head. "Okay, you know what, this is bullshit-- just say hello and get it over with, pretend like I'm not even here."

"Sorry, I'm--" But the person ahead of him is moving along; the way is finally clear to Erik.

"Charles." The moment Erik reaches out to him, the rest of the room disappears into a dull blur. Charles takes Erik's hand in both of his, and he can actually feel it when Erik's heart surges. "You're here."

"I'm here," Charles replies, a little breathless. His heart's pounding, too, and he can't stop touching Erik, his fingers tracing patterns on the back of Erik's hand. "I..." Everything he can think of to say seems so impossible now. _How are you?_ doesn't begin to cover it. _I missed you_ is too forward.

But Erik makes a soft noise and looks down at Charles's hand, and suddenly he's caressing Charles's cufflink, his face bright, his lips forming a surprised "O". "They're mine," he says softly.

Hearing Erik say _mine_ in that tone of voice does things to Charles that quickly have him using his ability to dampen his arousal. It almost doesn't matter, though, because he's getting so much attraction and nervous excitement through the bond that he couldn't feel anything else if he tried.

"You're wearing my cufflinks," Erik says softly. "I didn't realize... I would have..." He frowns slightly in concentration, and his thoughts reach Charles again, this time soft and tentative but as welcome as anything Charles has ever felt. «Nothing I could say now could possibly be enough.»

Charles takes a deep breath. _Easy... easy, don't push him..._ "It's so good to see you again," he says at last.

It startles Erik into a relieved laugh, and he nods. "It's good to see you, too," he says, their bond sparking with affection.

Charles wonders if Erik's getting anything from him. He tries to press his emotions forward, just with the bond, not with his muted ability. He squeezes Erik's hand and adds, "I hope we can catch up more later."

"Yes," Erik says, his fingertips reaching out for Charles's cufflink again. It's more than just a stroke, it's a caress, intimate and delicate, as though he's reminding himself what it was like to shape that metal. "You could start by telling me about this. You must have known I'd recognize them." He takes a breath, his eyes fixed on Charles's again, so blue it nearly hurts to look at them. "I would have sent them to you if you'd asked."

Charles can't keep himself from smiling, and he can feel the smile growing wider and wider as he looks at Erik. "I wasn't sure how to handle it. My friends dodged the question entirely by giving them to me for Christmas."

Erik strokes the cufflink for another long, distracting moment before finally saying, "I didn't know if..." He trails off, and takes a deep breath-- or as deep a breath as the light corset vest he's wearing will allow for. And dear God, that corset vest, has he changed his mind about submission after all? "When I have a minute... if we could talk..."

"Of course. I'd like that." Behind him, Armando is greeting Logan, who's a little more talkative with Armando than he was with Charles. "I'll look for you." Armando and Alex are both talking to Logan now, and Logan clears his throat, catching Erik's gaze. Erik looks helplessly back at Charles, and much as Charles wants to swoop him out of the line and be alone with him, he somehow manages to let go of Erik's hand. "Later, then. Soon."

"Yes," Erik says faintly, and when Charles moves forward to say hello to Kurt, Erik turns back to greet Armando.

"Charles!" Kurt greets him with an enthusiastic hug; Jason stands back a bit, a stern look flitting over his face for just a moment. But as fast as it flashes by, Jason seems to get distracted by his new husband, and he puts an arm around Kurt's waist as Kurt lets Charles go. "How marvelous to see you again."

"Thank you," Charles says, trying not to listen in on Armando's greeting to Erik. They're shaking hands, and Charles is still finding it painfully difficult to look at anyone else. "It was a lovely ceremony."

"I have the loveliest husband," Kurt nearly purrs, his tail wrapping around Jason's waist again. "It is beyond wonderful. I'm so happy, Charles."

"I can see that." Charles nods to Jason, though he keeps his distance-- he's not entirely sure Jason isn't going to somehow find a way to get across another FUCK YOU while Charles is here in line.

But all Jason does is offer his hand, and when Charles shakes it, Jason doesn't try to crush his fingers or anything of the kind. "Hey," Jason says. "I'm Jason."

"Congratulations. Charles Xavier."

"I know." Jason glances over at Erik. "I guess this was kind of a long time coming."

Charles makes a strangled noise, struggling for a response that can be considered even remotely polite. "You could say that."

"You and me," Jason clarifies, frowning. "You and me, meeting face-to-face. After years of missing out on meeting each other at one shindig or another..."

"Oh. Yes." Charles can't really think of anything to follow that up with, so he simply nods.

"But you're here now. So that's good," Jason says. When Charles doesn't answer immediately, Jason adds, "That's good, right?"

"Of course." Charles's head just keeps bobbing. Now would be such a good time for Armando to gently muscle him out of line... "Of course it is."

"Right. So."

"Charles, we will make an effort to catch up at some point tonight," Kurt promises, leaning in for another hug. "Thank you for being a part of our day."

"Night," Jason says, soft and teasing. Kurt turns to him, and Charles takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He's never seen, or felt, Kurt so happy, and as Jason leans in to steal a brief kiss, streams of effervescent bubbles in the shape of hearts float up around them. Charles is tempted to reach out to catch them, wondering if he'd feel them burst against his hand, but just then Armando does prod him, and Charles slips out of line, exhaling as he takes a few steps away.

"Charles!"

Charles looks up; Angel and Janos are standing there, Angel in a gorgeous floor-length halter dress, Janos wearing a white tuxedo with a corset vest tight enough to draw the eye and hold it in place. He's also wearing a wide collar, hooked to a leash that Angel has looped over her wrist. Angel flips her wings out and takes the briefest flight over, kissing Charles's cheek. "Good to see you," she offers. "I know where your table is; Janos and I can walk you over."

"Thank you," Charles says gratefully, and they flank him, Janos's arm tucked into Charles's, Angel's arm around Charles's back. It's a bit amusing to be doubly guided, but he can't deny that it would be much harder to walk away without the help.

Once they're out of earshot of the receiving line, Angel says, "So that was him?"

"Yes."

"Handsome fella."

"You have an incredible gift for understatement," Charles says, a little strained. The urge to trot right back to the receiving line and keep everyone at a respectful distance from _his bondmate_ was largely theoretical before, but if even Angel's noticing how stunning Erik is...

Angel snorts as they reach their table. It's quite a stretch away from the head table, and Charles wonders with a pang if that was intentional. "It's okay, Charles. It was just a compliment. No designs, and probably most of the people around here don't have any, either." She slips around Charles and strokes a hand through Janos's hair. "Usually people like their own mates just fine. Bondmates or otherwise."

"Yes, but--" But that didn't stop Logan from escorting Erik on his arm earlier, and what exactly was that about 'bullshit' and pretending he wasn't there? Charles pauses, reflects on it for a moment. Just because Erik has friends here doesn't mean Charles should be feeling this possessive. He hardly has the right, bond notwithstanding.

He sighs. "My apologies," he says. "Apparently I'm not living up to my lectures." He truly does believe in role equality, but here he is, behaving like a possessive cave-dom ready to fend off any rivals for his bondmate.

Angel laughs. "News flash, Charles, no one does, not all the time." She twines Janos's leash up in her fingers as they take their seats; everyone has chairs, but there are bins of floor cushions over at the wall. Janos seems happy enough to be seated, though.

Charles glances at the table again and sits down where the name card indicates-- and as soon as he's taken a seat, he realizes the name card was resting against one of Erik's votive holders.

He can't help himself; he reaches out and snatches up the holder, taking a careful look at it. He expected it to be beautiful; he saw the sample pictures of Erik's work. But the geometric design is absolutely perfect, as if machined from an Art Deco pattern in miniature. It would have taken immense precision to make even with a laser cutter, both exacting and artistic. Charles holds it in the palm of his hand, looking down at the skillfully tapered lines and curves and angles. It might be wishful thinking, but it looks much more detailed and intricate than any of the other votive holders on the table.

He flips it over to look at the bottom, and his heart speeds, his breath catching. There's a maker's mark on it, _E.L. 2008_ , but there's more than that. Above Erik's initials, there's another set-- _C.X._ \-- and a pair of swirled lines connecting one set of initials to the other. The lines are bold, unbroken, strong, and Charles sits back heavily in his chair, all too aware of how it's going to look when people notice that he's cradling a metal candleholder in his hands as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

This is _his_. Erik made it for _him_. And it's gorgeous.

"Hey," comes a male voice, and a crumpled handkerchief is thrust unceremoniously into his face. Charles jerks back, shaking his head and laughing as Alex hands over the handkerchief and then shoves both hands back into his pockets. "You looked like you needed it."

"Thank you," Charles says, wiping his face. "Oh, you two are just here," he nods at their spots beside him. "The candleholders... Erik made them."

"Pretty," Armando says. He strokes Charles's back, high up between the shoulderblades. "Everything okay? The talk looked like it went well."

"Yes. Very well," Charles says, blotting at his face again. "Now I'll have to wait through mingling and chatting and a three-course meal before I get to talk to him again."

"Hang in there," Armando says softly. He leans over and murmurs in Charles's ear, "Alex and me, we managed to wait for weeks before we were even allowed to be on our own together. You can handle one night."

"I know. It's kind of you to say," Charles says, but he's not sure he believes it. It's not just this one night; it's the past three and a half months, it's the past eight years.

He accompanies the two of them as they circulate through the ballroom, if only to help the time pass a little faster. Fortunately he's been doing this sort of light socializing most of his life, and while medication may be dulling his telepathy somewhat, it doesn't impair his ability to divide his attention. And of course none of the conversations are remotely challenging; Charles agrees with a series of people that the museum is a wonderful venue for a wedding, that Kurt and Jason are fantastically well-suited for one another, that they make a handsome couple, that the ceremony was charming and moving.

His eyes are glued to the reception hall door until Erik walks in-- on the arm of Kurt's best man again, _damn him_. Wait, no, Charles was going to be more mature about that, he was going to be reasonable. He wasn't planning on glaring daggers at Logan, and he rubs at his forehead, reminding himself as firmly as he can that Erik's part of the bloody wedding party, _everyone_ is walking in two-by-two.

It eases the twinge of jealousy considerably when Charles realizes that Erik isn't looking at Logan at all, he's scanning the room. And when Erik's eyes lock onto Charles's, and Erik's mouth curves into a beautiful smile, Charles nearly forgets about the rest of the room altogether.


	11. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (2/11)

After the wedding party comes in, there's the absolute eternity of dinner being served and eaten, and yet more conversation. A screen at the side of the room is playing a slideshow of pictures: Jason, growing up, and Kurt, from his years as a toddler onward. 

There are actually more pictures of Kurt, which surprises Charles, and by the time Jason's pictures reach high school, there are hardly any of him. But Jason's pictures pick up again at adulthood, with headshots and publicity stills and screenshots from his roles. Meanwhile, Kurt's pictures include a number of photographs from his days in Cirque des Mutants, and the photos of him in _Mutanizy_ involve Kurt wrapped in little more than sheer ribbons. It may not be the center of attention, but it still draws a few whistles and cheers.

At last, the caterers clear the tables, and people begin to walk around the gallery and mingle a bit more. Charles shares quick hopeful smiles with his friends and slips out of his seat.

As he's making his way toward the head table, a flash of bold purple and muted orange catches Charles's eye, over near the screen. He only knows one person in this extended social circle who could pull off a dress like that at an occasion like this.

It shouldn't be a shock. He knew Amelia was going to be here; Kurt told him in person, on the one occasion he was able to tear himself away from Jason and visit New York before the wedding.

Even braced for seeing her, it's still a raw spot. Amelia turns almost the instant Charles sees her, and their eyes meet across the crowd. They both look away just as quickly, practically synchronized. That accord seems to be the entire legacy of their months together.

Charles tries to discern Amelia from the white noise of different emotions in the crowd. It's not easy; his perception is dimmed by the Psychitrex, and even though the mood in the room is jubilant on the whole, she's not the only unhappy person here, unfortunately.

But he picks her out in time to get a drift of determination from her, and he knows her well enough to guess what that means, walking over to meet her halfway.

She doesn't look directly at him. "Hi."

Charles glances at her face, but he doesn't find it any easier than she does. He looks at her earrings. They're not the ones he gave her, of course. When she retrieved her things, she returned the jewelry he gave her, leaving it on his bureau. Charles still doesn't know what to do with it. He had it designed and made for her.

"It just seemed like it would be weird if we didn't say anything," Amelia finally tells him.

"You look lovely," Charles tries. "Beautiful dress. I always admired your style."

"Thanks. You look good too."

"Thank you."

Amelia makes a moue. "You got Kurt in the breakup, but I guess he felt bad enough about it to invite me to his wedding anyway."

He wants to argue that he didn't get anything out of the breakup, but it's true that alone among their mutual friends, Kurt asked about Charles's side of the split and stayed in touch, even when Amelia expressed displeasure. She wasn't speaking to Kurt by the time that Charles and Kurt decided to try a scene together.

"I know he regrets that you fell out of touch," Charles says.

"Sure." Amelia smooths her hands down her skirt. "Well... that's probably enough chatting that Kurt and Sil won't be worried we're going to kill each other once the bar opens."

Charles smiles tightly at her. "Obligation fulfilled. Should we...?"

She quickly sticks her hand out to forestall any attempt at an embrace.

He shakes it. "Take care," he says. Since that's apparently the official farewell of estrangement, these days.

"You too," Amelia says, and rather than walking off, she mists away, rematerializing on the other side of the gallery.

Charles stands there, deserted, his mouth stretched and face hot. He might be wrong to take it personally. When they were together, Amelia used her ability frequently to cross any distance, great or small. But it certainly feels as if she wanted to get away from him so badly that walking wasn't fast enough.

He shouldn't be surprised, considering how things ended between them. It's hard to believe they were so close at one point that they actually tried to simulate the soulbond between them with his telepathy. And now they can't even meet each other's eyes. Just another reason why it's better for everyone that Charles is on Psychitrex now. He's tried and tried to use his ability to connect with people, and it's only ruined everything, every time.

Across the room, Erik has both arms around that beautiful lawyer he was so excited to reconnect with on Fetbook, Magda. She lifts him off his feet and twirls him around, and Erik laughs, stepping back and kissing her hand. He looks so happy; Charles can feel pleasure and attraction from him when Erik looks at her. And God knows, after everything Charles has put him through, Charles _wants_ happiness for him. But it's still hard to watch.

It's an emotional night, everything running at a higher pitch, and it's meant to be a joyous occasion for Erik, his best friend's wedding. All at once it seems selfish for Charles to hope they can connect again tonight, the same awful thoughtless overreaching that had him sending his thoughts to his bondmate when they were boys, that made him think it was a good idea to try to share his emotions with Amelia as if they were bonded.

Erik straightens abruptly, his smile fading as he scans the room. There's nowhere else Charles could possibly look, even though just watching Erik right now feels like an intrusion. Erik's expression creases into a slight frown, and the sense of worry and concern coming through the bond almost seems as if it must be psychosomatic. Oh, God. If it isn't, though, it means Erik's seeing him like this, seeing Charles right now, bruised from his encounter with Amelia. Because of course it's not enough to be brushed off by his ex in public, Erik has to witness the wreckage as well.

Charles looks away, breathing as evenly as he can, trying to regain a hint of composure. When he looks back up, Erik's taken a step forward, and he takes another three before Logan catches his arm and nods up at the head table. The caterers are pouring champagne, and Erik quickly pats himself down, finally drawing a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. 

Toasts. Of course. Charles's own table has caterers coming round now with flutes.

«Charles?» Erik's words are blurred from here, faint among the interference from all the minds between them. «Are you all right?»

A deep breath, and Charles is able to nod. Another, and he can offer something approximating a smile. He's not willing to risk the moment and their fragile sense of reconnection by using his ability, but the nod seems reassurance enough; Erik swallows, turns, makes his way to the head table.

"Hey." The uncharacteristically gentle voice, that's Alex, and it makes Charles look up at him in surprise. "Come on, come sit down with us."

"Thank you," he nods, and Alex takes his arm, tugging him back to their table. Charles takes up his champagne along with everyone else, and turns toward the head table to hear the toasts.

\---

Strangely enough, Erik doesn't have any worries about speaking in front of this many people; he's given so many speeches for MFMR that it seems like second nature by now. He glances over at Kurt and Jason-- Kurt's seated himself in Jason's lap, and he's holding his flute with his tail.

But Logan's speech comes first, and so Logan stands up in front of the microphone, taps it a couple of times, and clears his throat. "Okay," he says. "So as some of you may know, I've known Kurt for a long damn time. And I've seen him happy--" He gestures back at Kurt, who's nuzzling Jason's nose. Jason nods toward Logan, and Kurt sits up straight, looking as innocent as possible. "And I've seen him _really_ happy. And then I've seen him so goddamned happy he basically makes everybody around him puke rainbows."

It draws a small laugh from the crowd, although Erik glances over to see Pat's hand tightening on her fork. Logan goes on, "This is the rainbow stage, and you even got a guy who can make it look like everybody around you is doing that." More laughter; Jason raises an eyebrow. "But please don't." Pat's grip on her fork relaxes a bit; Logan lifts his champagne flute. "So I just wanted to say, congratulations, and a great big _fuck yeah_ to choosing the love of your life." Logan looks at Jason and Kurt; Jason's arms are tight around Kurt's waist, and Kurt's fangs are sunk into his lower lip. "You make those of us who aren't lucky enough to be with our soulmates believe that anything's possible."

That hits hard, so much so that Erik finds himself looking into the crowd for Charles. Charles is looking back at him, and with everyone lifting eir glass for a toast, it's more than enough excuse for Erik to lift his champagne flute and nod at Charles.

Charles's eyes widen, but he lifts his glass, too, and they both drink. Erik stays that way, eyes locked on Charles's, until Logan squeezes his shoulder and murmurs, "Your turn."

Erik looks up at Logan, smiling as much as he can after all that. "Not bad," he offers.

"Break a leg or whatever." Logan shrugs and takes his seat.

Unlike Logan, Erik had his toast written out. As it turns out, he doesn't need the notes; he steps to the microphone and angles himself so he can see Jason while he gives his speech.

"I think everyone here who knows Jason would agree that he's one of the most stubborn people we know." The catcalls from the crowd confirm it; Erik grins at Jason and goes on. "From our high school days, when he wouldn't back down from a chess game even when he knew full well I had him beat, to that determination that's been getting him through the auditions in Hollywood, to falling in love, he's always set his own terms." He keeps his eyes on Jason and Kurt, who are nodding and giving each other meaningful smiles; he can't look back at Charles or he'll lose his train of thought completely.

"Fortunately, he's also found someone who loves that dedication, and who challenges him to put that stubbornness to good use. Jason, Kurt, congratulations on your marriage. May you only butt heads in the best of ways."

Jason breaks into a grin, and he morphs little curled horns onto both of them. Kurt laughs and tilts his head forward, and Jason gives him the gentlest of head-butts. Kurt returns the gesture and flings both arms around Jason, kissing him soundly.

This time Erik looks around the crowd as he lifts his glass, but before he drinks, his eyes go right back to Charles. If it's not Erik's imagination, Charles is looking at him warmly, and just the hint of that warmth goes right to Erik's core, making him smile right back.

It's the second toast they've shared as if no one else was in the room at all, but dear God, this isn't close enough. Erik sits back down politely and tries to pretend he's patient enough to sit through the serving of cake without going entirely out of his mind.

\---

"My judgement is completely scattered," Charles confides to Armando as the new husbands prepare to cut the wedding cake. "Could you tell me when it wouldn't be horrifically rude to go to the head table? Because if I try to decide for myself, I'm all too likely to go-- well, now."

"Don't go now," Armando laughs, resting his hand over Charles's in emphasis. "Do I need to have Alex sit on you?"

"Pleasant as that would be, I think it might send the wrong message," Charles answers with a little laugh of his own.

Charles stays occupied with conversation throughout the protracted process of cutting and distributing cake. He's not normally the sort of person who begrudges small talk; he doesn't precisely enjoy it, but he recognizes it as necessary social lubrication, smoothing the way for, hopefully, more meaningful interactions in time.

Tonight, though, it's all he can do to keep his seat, let alone participate in the chatter about parties and holiday events in Boston that Charles has been too morose to attend. At least his students should be pleased. He had all their exams marked and results posted by Christmas Eve.

When Erik finally stands up, after cake, Charles jumps out of his chair, too. Armando's hand on his arm doesn't adapt quickly enough to keep Charles from taking two, three, four steps toward Erik, but Erik isn't headed in his direction. Instead, he's leaving with Jason and Kurt and Logan, as well as a smattering of Wyngardes, Irene, Raven...

Angel catches up to Charles, though she nearly needs the help of her wings to do it. "Pictures next," she says.

"Again?"

"Hang in there, sport." She rubs at his back, up between his shoulderblades. "It won't be forever. Why don't you go say hi to Jean and Scott? Jean's been talking about how she needs to catch up with you."

At least it's a direction. Something to do, other than go mad here on his own. Charles nods and heads into the crowd, looking around for Jean and Scott-- he could swear he saw Jean in some sort of green-and-gold outfit, and Scott with his usual stylish ruby quartz glasses. 

As he makes his way over, more than a few people stop him to say hello. He's grateful that not all of these people know the whole story of his and Erik's bond, although he can't help wondering how much of a spectacle he's making of himself, so obviously intent on Jason's best man.

It doesn't matter. He can feel through the bond that Erik's chafing with impatience as well, and Erik's opinion is the only one that counts.

It feels as if he hugged and air-kissed half the room to get there, but eventually he makes it over to Jean and Scott. Jean smiles warmly at him, exchanging air kisses while Scott smiles at them both. 

"You look wonderful, both of you. How have you been?"

"Good," Scott says, shifting his champagne flute to his left hand so that he can offer Charles a handshake. "You look pretty good yourself, Professor."

"Thank you," Charles says, taking the offered handshake and nodding to Scott. Turning back to Jean, he adds, "And thank you, again, for your help this summer. We're still working it out, but so far tonight's gone well."

"You have been pretty much lighting up whenever a certain best man is in the room," Jean teases.

Scott nearly spits champagne all over himself, recovering with a cough. "Not Logan," he says, both his eyebrows high.

"Er, no," Charles says. "Erik. Erik Lehnsherr. _Jason's_ best man."

"Okay, good," Scott says, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "This was about to get awkward."

"We're Logan's plus-two," Jean explains. "It's why we're here."

"Oh." Charles nearly lets himself relax. Nearly... Jean slips her arm around Scott's waist, squeezing him. "I didn't think you knew the Wyngardes or Kurt that well, that explains it..."

"Yeah, well, he invited us a while ago. Things are a little different now," Scott begins, only to get a stern look from Jean. Charles would bet anything that the quick flurry of differing expressions that pass over their faces mean they're having a telepathic exchange. Charles swallows; he wonders if Jean has any idea how lucky she is, having a soulmate who tolerates that. He hopes she's careful about it, that she'd understand if it ever became too much for Scott.

"It's really not our story to tell," Jean says, turning back to Charles. "But it's been nice being here, even if we haven't gotten to spend as much time with Logan as I would have liked."

So much for being relieved. Charles feels a knot forming at the pit of his stomach, although he manages to conjure a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to hear that. I met him in the receiving line. He seemed... nice..."

"Not the word I'd use to describe Logan, " Scott says dryly, "but he does seem to be on his best behavior. He didn't even complain about having to go the long way around to avoid the metal detectors."

The knot tightens. "Oh? Does he have piercings?" Charles can only imagine the appeal something like that would hold for Erik.

"Metal skeleton," Scott says. "It's-- related to his mutation. I know the Wyngardes tried to get the museum to let them turn off the metal detectors to accommodate him but they just wouldn't do it. I can't really blame them, it's a big security risk, but it means Logan has to come through the freight door."

"I see." Charles sets his shoulders and tries to focus on the way Erik reacted to the cufflinks, on the shared looks over the toasts, and not on the fact that his metallokinetic bondmate would quite literally be attracted to every bone in Logan's body.

At last the door opens and Erik-- as well as everyone else-- comes back in. Politeness be damned; Charles says a fast goodbye to Jean and Scott and nearly breaks into a jog to cross the room. No more waiting. No more being patient. That's _his soulmate_ , and Charles needs to talk to him _now_.

But Erik's every bit as intent on him, breaking away from Logan-- Charles stifles a sense of satisfaction, once again caught off-guard by having that feeling at all-- and meeting Charles in the middle of the room, hands outstretched to take Charles's. As if Charles would turn down any form of connection now; he puts his hands in Erik's and isn't the least bit surprised when Erik's thumbs immediately glide to Charles's cufflinks.

"This evening just keeps dragging on and on," Erik says, eyes bright.

"I've noticed! I never realized how much time weddings took," Charles answers.

"If this were anyone's wedding but Jason's, I don't think I'd be nearly so well-behaved."

"You've been wonderful. Your toast was lovely, and the engraving of the rings during the ceremony-- of course we couldn't tell what you were engraving, but it was an outstanding way to incorporate someone's mutation. Everyone's going to be talking about that for years, asking if you'll come and do it for them."

He almost kicks himself; he knows it must sound as if he couldn't be laying it on more thickly if he were trying, and Erik has no way of knowing that he's sincere. Picking up people at clubs has never been this awkward. But this isn't a prelude to a scene-- this could be the prelude to so much more, if Charles doesn't bollocks the whole thing up. _Please..._

"I think after this I'll have had my fill of weddings for a while," Erik says. He pauses, and Charles can feel so much nervousness and uncertainty in the bond that he lets Erik's hands go, his own heart pounding. "Although if the opportunity for one more happened to--"

Even with the Psychitrex, Charles gets just enough warning to brace himself before the loud, boisterous "Charles!" rings out, and Charles gets tackled from the side. Erik shuffles back a step, his eyes going wide for just an instant, and then Charles gets a blast of scalding anger from the bond and an echoing sensation of hurt. 

He tries to turn, but Tony's already going on: "I've been waiting for you to show up at the bar forever! Are you _sober_? Why are you sober?" As an afterthought, Tony turns to Erik, whose jaw is set, eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists, fury flaring through their bond. "Wow, rageface, lighten up. I have years and years of dibs, but I'm good with threesomes."

"Tony," Charles says, grabbing Tony by the arms and pushing him aside, but by then it's too late, damn it. Damn it all to hell, Erik turns on his heel and _leaves_ , just stalks straight over to Pat Wyngarde, and Charles's heart freezes-- Erik's going to ask Pat to have Charles seen out.

"Tony, for God's sake!"

"Oh, for God's sake yourself," Tony fires back, somehow managing to step close and tangle up with Charles with just one arm. He's holding a champagne flute in the other hand, and miraculously he hasn't spilled a drop. Then again, he's had plenty of practice. "This is our thing, remember? Other people commit to each other, we drink, you put me down hard, we have a fantastic scene, you facepalm the next day and add another five minutes to your RAC lecture. It's like you've forgotten the drill or something."

For whatever reason, Pat Wyngarde isn't marching over here to throw Charles out on his arse. Instead, Jason's rushing over to Erik, along with Logan, and Jason pulls Erik into a hug, cupping the back of his neck. Erik hugs him back hard, and Charles has to swallow down a ridiculous amount of jealousy and possessiveness, seeing Jason's hand so close to soul's-home. That's _his_. He shakes himself-- what is he thinking? He's gone far past absurd and well into pathetic, at this point.

Erik turns and hugs Pat next, and then he and Logan head off-- oh, God. No one's going to ask Charles to leave. _Erik's_ leaving.

Charles scruffs Tony, squeezing none-too-gently. "Tony, you know I adore you, but your timing is the absolute worst."

"What?" Predictably, that hold on Tony has him a bit distracted. Charles lets go. "What, what's wrong?"

"I have to go."

"For that guy? Hey, I was serious about the threesome thing--"

" _No_ ," Charles barks out. Tony recoils, shoving his index fingers together in front of him in an improvised cross.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, it's a little early to go all demon seed..."

"Tony, that's my bondmate," Charles says. And Erik's gone, out the door, _damn everything to hell._ "I found him again. I'm trying--"

To his credit, Tony immediately passes a hand over his head-- a gesture Charles has only ever seen him do with a heavy dose of sarcasm. This time he appears to actually mean it. "I'm an asshole," he says. "I'm sorry. Say no more. Just go. Good luck."

Some of the tension slips out of Charles's shoulders; despite everything, the gesture's rather touching. He quickly kisses Tony's cheek. "Thank you."

And then he's out the door, following Erik, thanking genetics and the bond for the way intuition leads him directly there. Though as he barrels down to the coat check, he feels a trifle foolish; of course that's where Erik would be, it's not as though Erik was so put off he would have walked into the cold without so much as his coat. Probably.

Erik and Logan are there, waiting, and Logan's hand is on Erik's shoulder. Charles bites down on the urge to demand Logan back off, and instead says, "Erik?"

Erik swallows, not looking at him. The bond's leaking out hurt, and it's all because of Charles, again. Maybe Erik has the right instinct. Maybe they should leave it be, if they can't even have two minutes of conversation without something like this happening.

But all Charles can say is, "Please. Don't go."

« _...stay with me..._ », Erik's mind fills in, as if he's finishing a phrase or a ritual. It's familiar to Charles, too, but he's too shaken to sift through his memories and pinpoint it.

Finally Erik turns to look at Charles, and when the coat check attendant returns with his coat and Logan's, he holds his trenchcoat over his arm while Logan slides into a leather jacket that looks, if Charles does say so himself, completely comical over a tuxedo with tails.

"I think you'll do fine back upstairs," Erik says. "I did see, on Fetbook... you'd made plans. Of course. I'm sorry for interrupting."

Stung, Charles looks from Erik to Logan. "I didn't _make plans_ with anyone. Tony is just an overly exuberant friend," he puts none too fine a point on the word, "who didn't realize how much things have changed." He can't just stand here and not ask, though, he can't: he looks up at Logan and adds, "Would this be your friend from Pittsburgh?"

Erik turns to look at Logan, startled, and if the bond is still giving Charles decent insight into Erik's emotional state, confused as well. "I'm sorry?"

Logan just looks amused as he says, "Actually, I'm Canadian."

"I beg your pardon," says Charles, ice dripping off the words, "I suppose I mean Erik's friend _in_ Pittsburgh." To Erik he adds, "The one who's occupied your attention in the mornings." Even as he says it, he gives a little internal grimace at how nakedly jealous that seems, but then again it's hardly fair for Erik to behave as if Charles jilted him merely because Tony made an overture when Erik's been having all those hot and heavy mornings with someone else, knowing all the while that Charles can feel it.

For a few seconds, Erik's too stunned to respond, and then there's nothing but confusion in his reaction. "Logan hasn't been in Pittsburgh."

"Which is apparently too bad," Logan says, and then he claps his hand over his mouth, looking all the more surprised for having done it. Erik turns, grimaces, shakes his head; Logan's hand comes off his mouth. "Touchy."

"Sorry," Erik says, though he doesn't sound it. "Give me a minute."

"I've got to go around anyway. Meet me outside when you're ready." He grins at Erik, looking a little feral, and Charles actually comes forward a step before realizing what he's doing. It's honestly a bit humiliating, feeling that impulse to physically defend his right to his bondmate, knowing Erik doesn't want that from him. 

But Logan doesn't take up that challenge, thank God, merely telling Charles, "See you later," and heading back into the museum, avoiding the metal detector at the front entrance.

It leaves Charles and Erik on their own-- the coat check attendant seems to have made a strategic retreat back into the coatroom-- and Erik looks Charles over, his eyes fixing on Charles's wrists. His cufflinks.

Charles looks Erik over in turn, and when his eyes go to Erik's own cuffs, he has to draw in a breath through his teeth. He hadn't noticed before, but now he sees it: a silver ornament on Erik's right wrist, hanging down and peeking out from under his sleeve.

"Just tell me," Charles says. Now that he's seen it, he can't take his eyes off it, the rings, the way it spins effortlessly in the air. He thought they were beginning to connect, but no one knows better than Charles that it's very possible to misread people even when their emotions are an open book. There could be other explanations for all Erik's positive, warm feelings tonight. A little involuntary flare of seeker rush, maybe... or pleasure at the prospect of finally resolving their bond and putting all this behind him. Moving on. _After this I'll have had my fill of weddings for a while... although if the opportunity for one more happened to..._

"You're with someone." He swallows, finally meeting Erik's eyes again. "And it's serious?"

The ache of sorrow from Erik's half of the bond hits Charles like a wave. Charles steels himself for whatever Erik's going to say. After a night of having his hopes so high, it's impossible to believe they're all going to crash and burn here, in the museum lobby. But Erik has every right to a life, to a choice, and whatever he's decided, Charles won't argue. It's the least he can do, even if it's making his skin feel cold and numb, making him wonder how he'll even get back to the hotel, once they've said goodbye.

\---

Erik can actually feel Logan walking down the hall, turning so he can meet up with the security guard the coat check attendant called for him and head down to the freight exit. Logan's long out of sight before Erik stops sensing him, and isn't that a terrible irony: Erik can sense a near-stranger until he's nearly left the building, but his own soulmate's standing not two feet in front of him, and still there's nothing.

And Charles thinks... Erik hasn't been able to put all the pieces together, to figure out what Charles thinks, yet. He's grateful now that Jason warned him about all the other people Charles has been close to; there were a lot of hugs and air kisses and familiar looks. It might have felt as though Charles was trying to rub Erik's face in that, if Erik hadn't had the warning.

All right, so now and then it _did_ feel as though Charles was trying to rub Erik's face in it. The feisty blond sub who practically ended up in Charles's lap, despite his dom being right there beside them. Tony fucking _Stark_. But there were awkward moments, too: that woman in the coral-and-violet dress who left Charles looking lost, for one. Erik would have gone over if he hadn't been called to give his toast at just the wrong moment.

Somehow all the moments tonight have been wrong, one way or another. Earlier they seemed to have a chance-- exchanging thoughts before the ceremony, finding out Charles was wearing his cufflinks when Charles came up to him in the receiving line, those few brief seconds before Charles's _friend_ interrupted them-- but Charles is carrying around impressions that Erik doesn't know how to begin to correct.

There's the first one, he supposes; he might as well start there. "I'm not with Logan. I'm not _with_ anyone."

Charles's eyes track back to Erik's sleeve; Erik swallows and quickly tucks the windcatcher back under his sleeve, using his ability. "I made that," Erik says. It feels like his cheeks are burning. Wearing that for Charles and having to watch Charles's friend claim _dibs_ on him, of all the stupid, juvenile things-- "It's mine."

He expects it to help, somehow, but Charles just winces. Erik rubs at his forehead. "I don't know what you're doing here," he says quietly. "I was leaving. I thought that would be easiest. I can't stay here while you're--"

"I'm not," Charles says, just as quiet, urgent. "I told you-- Tony's a friend, and I haven't seen him in months. He was wrong about what I wanted."

 _But he knew you well enough to guess._ It's Erik's turn to stare down at Charles's wrists, looking at those cufflinks. "I have no idea what you want," Erik whispers.

Charles comes forward another step, his hand outstretched. Erik doesn't reach for it, can't let himself reach for it, but Charles doesn't take it back, either. "You were happy earlier. I want that for you again."

"Earlier?"

"I thought. When we exchanged thoughts before the ceremony. In the receiving line. During the toasts. Was I wrong?"

Happy isn't what Erik might have called it. Hopeful, maybe. He shakes his head. "You weren't wrong." He stares down at Charles's hand, his own hand shaking at his side. "I want you to be happy, too. But we're not together--" Charles winces again at the same moment Erik's chest tightens, just as he says that-- "and I'm not asking you for anything, I wouldn't ask you to give up anything, I just..." Helpless, he swallows, looking up at Charles again. "I can't stay."

Charles reaches out again, touching Erik's sleeve. " _Why_ aren't you asking me for anything? Ask me for something. I would do anything-- anything. I'll _go_ if you need to be away from me. But I can feel that you're not happy. If there's anything I can do, let me try. Please."

The warmth in that touch streaks all the way up Erik's arm, curving up and over his shoulder and settling down, into the center of his chest. This isn't what Charles meant to offer, Erik knows it, but he's too close to Charles to think straight anymore, too desperate for what they used to have to hold back. And for all he knows, this could be his one chance. Charles could walk away again, tonight, and this time there might not be any letters or emails or text messages or updates on Fetbook. Erik can't even feel him. Charles could disappear, if he wanted. He could leave Erik behind, wondering if feeling this way at all was just a dream he had when he was young.

So Erik steels himself and reaches out, his hand sliding behind Charles's shoulder to his back, closing his eyes against the shocked expression on Charles's face. He bends his head down, lips parting, and he kisses Charles, holding nothing back-- if it's going to be just once, he needs to feel _everything_ , Charles's mouth moving under his, Charles's lips warm against his, Charles--

\--Charles wrapping both arms around him and rising up into the kiss, passionate and strong, leaning in against Erik until he nearly overbalances the both of them. Erik settles his stance and gets his other arm around Charles, too, opening up for Charles's kiss and eagerly giving ground when Charles starts setting the pace: hot, heavy, _claiming_ , licking into Erik's mouth as if determined to press every other thought out of Erik's mind.

His soulmate. _His._ After all these years, _his_. Erik's heart feels full to bursting. He can't contain that; he can only press those thoughts to Charles, as much as he can.

« _This_. This is what I want.»

Charles's hand moves up to the back of Erik's neck, holding him there, and for a moment Erik thinks Charles might be backing off to say something-- but no, he chains together kiss after kiss, delving back into Erik's mouth and claiming him over and over again. «I want _you_ ,» Charles thinks at him, while Erik can only clutch at him and send out waves of relief and assent.

By the time they manage to pull away for a breath, it feels like the world around them has gone still, waiting to see what happens next. Erik can feel Logan just outside the front door of the museum, but he can't bring himself to care. Charles is looking at him with brilliant, hopeful eyes, and Erik takes a deep breath. He took a risk and it paid off; he can't look at Charles without longing to take another.

He lifts his hand and slips the windcatcher back out of his sleeve. "I've been wearing this for the past decade," he says. "I made it when I was fourteen. It's yours."

Charles's eyes widen, and he reaches up as if to touch it, his hand moving so quickly it seems like a reflex. He stops himself just before he makes contact, looking up at Erik instead.

"When I made it," Erik says softly, unwinding the chain from his wrist, "I thought that I'd give it to you when we finally met. I thought it would only be a few more years. I didn't realize how long we'd be waiting."

"Oh," Charles manages, barely; his voice breaks on it, and he swallows, his eyes shining, lashes damp as he blinks back tears. "It's beautiful."

Erik's heart is racing, but he can't stand here and not offer. Not now. Not after that kiss.

He settles it in Charles's hand and lets the chain drift loose across Charles's fingers. "It's still yours," he says, "if you want it."

Charles closes his hand around it immediately. "Of course," he says, and that does it: the tears break free, rolling down his cheeks. "Of course, Erik. Thank you."

He can't feel what Charles is feeling, but watching Charles cry tugs at him. Erik can't help coming closer and reaching out any more than he could help what he's feeling now: a warmth and presence in his heart as he reaches out to brush one of Charles's tears away.

When Charles turns his face against Erik's palm, he looks peaceful, a line between his brows smoothing away. Erik cups Charles's face in his hand and lets Charles settle in against that touch; he struggles to stay calm, not to shake or let the metal on them and near them vibrate with how thunderstruck he's feeling.

_I'm still in love with you._

Not only with the memories of their bond when it was full and true, the boy Charles was then, the feelings between them when they were young. Since Charles found him again, everything Erik has taken from their texts and letters, what he saw as superficial, impersonal distance-- it's all reshuffling for him. Everything looks entirely different in the light of this night, that kiss, those tears.

Not superficial, but hesitant; not impersonal, but careful. _I don't want to cause you more pain. I didn't realize you were thinking about me. If you call on me, I will be there._ Erik needed so badly to see open arms that he missed the offered hand.

Seeing it now, seeing _Charles_ now, touching him, feeling his mind... of course Erik loves him still, here and now. Even with all the history between them, he's stunned by the intensity of everything he's feeling.

Charles opens his eyes and draws back, brushing tears off his face. "You," he says, and he has to clear his throat before he can go on, "you still aren't feeling me, are you?" He gestures back at his joining spot.

It's too much. Erik almost grabs his hand and pounces him again, right there, right then. Finally he shakes his head, lost for anything else to do or say. "No. I'm sorry, I--" He takes another deep breath of his own. "I wish I could."

"I feel you," Charles tells him. Despite the tears, he's wholly confident as he says, "And if you could sense me, you'd know I feel just the same."

Erik's heart thumps so hard in his chest that he gulps for air a bit. He's feeling _so much_ right now-- love, lust, relief, the desire to pull Charles into the nearest quiet corner and tell him _I'm yours, I want to be yours_ \-- and if Charles can feel all that, if he's sure he feels the same way... "What do we do about that?"

Charles looks Erik over-- it's not a once-over as such, it feels more like he's trying to memorize the way Erik looks right now, standing here before him-- and draws his tongue over his lips, which nearly buckles Erik at the knee. "Whatever you want, whenever you want. But I need you to know that's how it is, Erik."

There's no way Erik can keep his hands off Charles after that, no point in even trying. He draws Charles close again, and Charles wraps his arms around Erik's neck, tugging him down into a kiss. He's still got Erik's windcatcher-- _his_ windcatcher, now-- clutched in his hand, and Erik can feel the heat of Charles's palm against it, _through_ it.

«Charles, are you sure... do you _know_...»

«I know, Erik,» Charles sends to him. And the words they've waited all these years to say, to hear. «I love you.»

Erik can't hold himself together through that. After all these years of waiting and missing him and feeling _alone_ , to have that voice in his mind, telling him _I love you_... Erik channels all his emotions into kiss after kiss, unwilling to pull back for as long as it would take to break down. «I've wanted to hear that for _so long_... I love you, too.»

Charles brings his hands up to Erik's face, cupping Erik's cheek, brushing Erik's skin with the backs of his fingers. His kisses ease a little, gentler now, as he sends, «I never meant to make you wait. I've always loved you. All this time I've missed you. Every day, always.»

Erik needs the air, now; he breaks away from Charles and rests his head on Charles's shoulder, arms around Charles's waist. It's just right, the way they fit together like this. Charles's arms around him feel strong enough to bear Erik up through anything. 

He's not sure if he's sending it from the heart or soul or mind when he thinks, «I missed you, too.»

Charles tucks his head against Erik's chest, his arms perfectly tight around Erik. «Please don't go,» he thinks.

«Stay with me,» Erik sends back, and that opens the floodgates; he presses his face to Charles's shoulder, tears finally coming. «I always wanted to. I always wanted to stay with you.»

Charles gives him time, lets him cling until his breath steadies. When Erik finally draws back to look at him again, Charles slides one hand up Erik's back-- and up-- and _up_ , and after all these years of pain at soul's-home, and these few months when habit's kept him from touching himself there... Erik didn't realize how badly he could crave touch at his joining spot. How badly he could crave one man's touch. _Charles's_ touch.

He tilts his head down, all but pushing his joining spot into Charles's hand, and Charles takes the invitation, moving his hand up and cupping Erik there. Erik moans aloud, leaning into Charles as his grip settles in, cautious but solid, steady.

There's no pain, there's no burning itch that makes everything feel wrong-- it's as if half of him is settling into place, as if he's being touched and caressed and pleased somewhere entirely new. He can't help gasping for breath, needing more, his whole body lighting up with arousal.

«I never want to let you go,» Charles thinks, and Erik nods, his joining spot rubbing against Charles's palm.

It seems so forward to do the same thing to Charles, but Erik isn't going to let this opportunity pass him by. He reaches up and presses his hand against Charles's joining spot in return, squeezing gently. Charles breathes in sharply and comes up on his toes, lips parting as he searches for Erik's mouth, kisses him hard-- and Erik doesn't need the emotion to travel through the bond in order to feel claimed, wanted, desire crashing over both of them.

«Don't let me go,» Erik sends. His thoughts feel tangled, but Charles just intensifies that kiss, sucking on Erik's tongue, licking across his lower lip. «I'm right here, I'm yours. Don't let go... God, it's never felt like that before, _nothing_ has ever felt like that before...»

But for all that, Erik can feel how close this is getting him. How close he is to losing control and dropping to his knees, or making a mess of himself in more ways than one.

The conflict must radiate through their bond, because Charles tilts back just a little to meet Erik's eyes again, but he doesn't let go of Erik's joining spot, not yet. «Do you want me to stop...?»

What a question. Erik takes a deep breath and finally slips his hand down from Charles's joining spot to his shoulder. "I don't want to do this _here_ ," he says. "Do you?"

Charles takes his hand off Erik's joining spot in return, and some of Erik's brain cells come back to him: the party, the people upstairs, Charles must have goodbyes to say, Logan's outside waiting for Erik... but Charles doesn't back off, nuzzling Erik instead. "Where, then?"

One of the cufflinks Erik made-- the ones Charles wore, here, tonight, knowing Erik would see them and feel them-- grazes the back of Erik's neck. He reaches up, catching Charles's wrist gently, fingering the cufflink. _Mine. You're mine. We're together, now._

Charles's eyes light up. Maybe he read those thoughts from Erik; maybe he's just feeling the echo of Erik's possessive claim through their bond. Not for the first time tonight, Erik desperately wishes he could feel Charles, too.

«Where...?» Charles sends, smiling so broadly he has to bite his lower lip to contain some of it.

«Your hotel's nearby...»

«It is,» Charles confirms. «Won't take a moment to set up safe calls.» His smile turns ever-so-slightly smug as he adds, «And we should tell Logan not to wait after all.»

«There's nothing between me and Logan,» Erik sends, shaking his head. But he manages to step back anyway. "I'll tell him," he says aloud. "As for safe calls... we should go back upstairs, I need to ask someone other than Jason..." Magda. He can ask Magda.

But the instant he mentions going back upstairs, Charles's eyes light even more brightly. "All right," Charles agrees. "I'll get my coat, you tell Logan you're unavailable."

"I really wasn't planning on scaling Everest with him," Erik says, and for a moment Charles's brows knit-- but Erik's heading off even as he finishes speaking, leaving Charles tilting his head and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

Outside, Logan's smoking a cigar, but the instant Erik appears, he gives a couple of deep sniffs and shakes his head. "Good for you."

"Sorry to cancel on you," Erik says. "But..."

"Trust me. I saw it coming. You should smell the pheromones he's putting out, he couldn't be staking his claim harder if he had an actual ball and chain."

Erik isn't sure whether to beam or wince at that. "Well," he says awkwardly, "good night."

"Good night. And good luck with this soulmate stuff. It's got to work out for some people, right?"

"You'd think," Erik says fervently, rubbing at his forehead. He glances up at Logan. "It isn't working out for you?"

"She's out there. Haven't met her." Logan shrugs. "Whatever. Have a good night. Few nights. However long it lasts."

"Hopefully more than a few nights," Erik says, voice scraped from a suddenly-raw throat. Charles left so quickly that first time-- and if he finds out Erik can't submit, then what... but Erik _told_ him, it was one of the first things he said...

"I meant the rush part," Logan says, eyebrow raised. "But you know, good luck with the rest, too."

"Thanks," Erik says, and that's enough of that conversation; he turns around and heads back inside.

Charles has his trenchcoat draped over one arm. In the other hand, he's still holding the windcatcher, and when Erik comes forward, Charles says, "I'd like to wear it."

So much for having enough distance to keep from buckling at the knee; Erik feels himself wanting to take the floor at the very idea of Charles wearing his windcatcher. Charles slips a finger into the knot of his bowtie to loosen it, and Erik knows if he sees his windcatcher around Charles's neck, he won't be able to keep himself off his knees.

He puts a gentle hand on Charles's wrist. "Could we... not here... please." When Charles looks at him steadily, Erik goes on, "When we're at the hotel. _Alone_."

Charles smiles at him. "Of course." He slips it into his upper jacket pocket, and pats it down, the metal resting above his heart; that doesn't make Erik feel any less like going to his knees. "When we're alone."

He offers his arm to Erik, and Erik doesn't hesitate; he snatches his coat off the counter in front of the coatroom and takes Charles's arm, grinning down at him.

"Ready?" Charles asks.

"You have no idea."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Charles smirks over at him. "Let's go and make our apologies--"

"No." Erik stops him, turning Charles so they're facing each other. "I'm not apologizing to _anyone_ for this. Ever."

Charles's smirk fades away immediately, and he nods, meeting Erik's eyes. "I'm glad," he says quietly. "Let's say our goodbyes, then."

That, Erik can agree to; he squeezes the curve of Charles's arm, and lets Charles guide him back toward the reception hall.


	12. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (3/11)

Charles all but floats back into the reception hall, Erik's hand on his arm as elevating as it is grounding. His soulmate, on his arm, walking into a room full of six hundred friends and Erik's near-family...

The first people to notice them coming back are the Wyngardes, of course, Pat first, and Rick. Pat hurries over and tugs Erik down slightly to kiss his cheek.

"Finally!" she says, looking from Erik to Charles. "Well?"

Charles clears his throat, but Erik immediately takes over: "Pat, may I introduce you to my soulmate, Charles Xavier."

It's ridiculous that such a simple phrase could bring tears to Charles's eyes-- _again_ \-- but he knows the classic introduction-to-family when he hears it, and he puts his hand over Erik's and squeezes, holding his breath for Pat's reaction.

"I'm so happy to be introduced," Pat says warmly. "Charles, welcome to the family--" she glances quickly at Erik, hesitating, but Erik's smile is so broad it's starting to show all his teeth. "Welcome to the family," she says, more firmly. "I'm so glad you're with us." Rick comes up beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist as she extends a hand to Charles, and Charles has to let go of Erik's hand in order to take it.

"There we go, about time," Rick says-- Charles feels the bubble of near-hysterical amusement coming up in Erik's emotions just as Rick winces and Erik laughs, but Rick offers Charles a handshake as well. "Sorry. _So_ sorry-- I just mean-- welcome to the family, Charles."

Charles is done for; he's not going to make it through all these greetings without ending up in tears again. At his side, though, Erik comes up with a handkerchief, and Charles blots his eyes. "Thank you, love."

Another swell of devotion from Erik. It scarcely seems possible that it's all for him, but the way Erik's smiling at him leaves no doubt. "I should reintroduce you to Raven," Charles says.

"Right here," Raven says, Irene on her arm as well. "Sharon and Kurt-- bad Kurt-- are going to _flip out_. What are the odds that both of us wind up with our soulmates on the same day?"

"Fairly good, given the number of mutants in this room, and Charles's theory that mutation is related to soulbonds that find each other across larger distances." Irene smiles. "I've done some reading. Your papers were very interesting."

"And we did _find_ each other sooner," Erik adds, with a small pang that twists uncomfortably into Charles's gut. He can't waste his time on regrets now, though, not with Erik looking at him and giving off love and affection and an increasingly-urgent desire to _be alone_.

Raven clears her throat. "Okay, lovebirds... is it my turn?"

"Yes," Charles says, quickly putting Erik's handkerchief away. "Raven, may I introduce you to my soulmate, Erik Lehnsherr. Erik, this is my sister, Raven Darkholme."

Raven shakes Erik's hand, looking him sharply up and down. Whatever she sees satisfies her, though, and she nods firmly. "Welcome to the family," she says.

Irene's next with a handshake, and when Erik takes her hand, she smiles at him. "Welcome to the family," she says. "Or should you be welcoming me?"

"You had it sorted out a few hours earlier. I think you get to give the official welcome," Erik says. He reaches back for Charles with his free hand as he slips away from Irene. Charles folds himself instantly into that half-embrace, his arm going around Erik's waist as naturally as anything, his cheek against Erik's shoulder. Of all the ways he's tried to be close to people over the course of his life, he's never had such a feeling of homecoming before.

«I need to be alone with you,» Erik sends. Charles clutches at his jacket; hearing Erik sending thoughts to him, deliberately using telepathy with him... let alone hearing _that_ from him... Charles closes his eyes and nods.

A soft _bamf_ and a whiff of sulfur announce another arrival; when Charles looks up, it's Jason and Kurt, drawn by the growing crowd of people around Charles and Erik. "Of all the people I didn't expect to steal my thunder," Jason says.

" _You_ , I expected," Kurt tells Irene, who immediately reaches out and tousles his hair, her hand dodging backward quickly when his tail comes up to smack it away. "Theatricality. Hmph."

"I'm still trying to figure out the honorary relationships," Jason says to Charles. "Did we just end up brothers-in-law, or am I your brand-new nephew?"

"Nephew! Oh my God, where's Ben?" Pat asks, scanning the walls up high, near the ceilings. "He was up at the top of one of those columns--"

"And we got him down. Calm down, it's fine," Jason says, patting her shoulder.

"In answer to your question," Erik says, "how about neither, please." The bond shimmers with affection, love, but with everyone together like this it's becoming easier to tell those feelings for Jason, laced with familiarity and friendship, apart from the way Erik feels about Charles.

"If you two don't want to be stuck walking around the whole party hearing 'congratulations' for the next couple of hours, you might need to head out," Raven points out. She wraps both her arms around Irene's waist, and Irene leans back against her, smiling and smiling. "Which we might be doing ourselves here pretty soon."

"I could stand to hear 'congratulations' a _few_ more times," Charles admits, looking up at Erik with a grin. Erik grins back-- and slides a hand onto Charles's shoulder, his fingertips teasing at the back of Charles's neck. Even through his shirt collar, it makes Charles go hot all over. "Or we could go now."

«I need to see Magda,» Erik sends. Charles draws back a little, frowning. «I can't ask Jason to be my safe call, not tonight of all nights...»

«Oh. Of course,» Charles thinks, annoyed with himself-- safe calls, of course they still need to arrange for those. «For me it's Armando and Alex, where are they...»

"Before you run off," Jason says, and Charles snaps right back to looking at him, "can I get two minutes--"

"Jason!" Kurt wraps an arm and his tail around Jason's waist, and both his eyebrows go up; Jason melts against Kurt, his arms quickly going around Kurt's neck, but the mood Charles is drawing from the two of them doesn't match the scene at all. He senses annoyance from Kurt, determination from Jason-- and exasperation from Erik, who's looking at both of them with narrowed eyes.

«Should I ask--»

«If he doesn't explain, I'll tell you later,» Erik sends.

"Ahem," Jason says, unwinding himself from Kurt. "Two minutes. C'mon."

"All right," Charles steps away from Erik with considerable reluctance.

«Call out if you need help.»

«You don't think I'll actually need it...?»

«Just keep thinking about your hotel, and me, and us, and... our first time...»

«Better if I don't!» Charles replies in a haze, «I'll never be able to pay attention to whatever he wants to say if I'm thinking of that!»

Erik's amusement follows Charles out into the hallway, and Jason glances around himself before letting his arms drop down to his sides. "Okay," he says. "So..."

"Congratulations, again," Charles cuts in; at the very least, they can start this on friendly terms.

It seems to catch Jason slightly off-guard; he smiles back, reflexive and automatic. "Thanks. We're very-- well, you've seen us."

"Kurt's never looked happier."

Another smile, ear-to-ear this time, and then Jason shakes himself a bit and says, "Okay. I'm going to make this fast."

He's still smiling, though his mood's sobering a bit. Charles nods, waiting-- though it really doesn't seem, this time, as though he's going to go for a _Fuck you_ or anything of the like.

All the same, it's a bit surprising when Jason says, "Erik's been through a lot. But he's my best friend, and I love him more than--" he glances back over his shoulder to the reception hall-- " _almost_ anyone." He meets Charles's eyes again, gone entirely serious when he says, "You're going to have to work your ass off to deserve him. And that's nothing personal. Anybody would."

Instantly sober himself, Charles nods. "I know." He swallows; all his feelings for Erik are understandably close to the surface, but it seems important somehow that _Jason_ recognizes this: "I've known that since we were twelve."

It softens the hard edges off Jason's expression, and he nods. "Normally I'd say something like, _if you hurt him, I will kill you,_ but let me make a much more frightening threat here: if you hurt him, you will be answering to _my mom_."

Charles is caught halfway between laughing aloud and swallowing his own tongue; he makes a strangled sound and manages to gasp out, "Do I get to choose between those? Because..." Jason raises an eyebrow, and Charles quickly shakes his head, growing serious again. "Because if it's within my power, I'll make sure he never spends another day hurting or wanting for anything ever again."

Jason looks at him for a few long seconds, but this time his poker face is faultless. After a while, he nods. "Okay."

"I know I have a lot to make up for, with Erik. I'm grateful for the chance. I won't waste it."

"All right. Just... try to work at his pace, okay?"

"I've every intention," Charles answers automatically. But there's something more to that expression and those words than the obvious, and Charles pauses, looking at Jason, trying to sort it out. "Is there something in particular you're getting at?"

"He says you read him for Shaw," says Jason. "I don't know how much you read..."

Just the mention of Shaw's name makes Charles's stomach clench. "Enough to make me more than glad he's dead."

"Okay." Jason nods. "So-- that's why I'm saying 'don't rush him.' He's _been_ rushed."

The very hint that Charles might be capable of anything like what Shaw did to Erik makes Charles feel sick, while wanting to snarl at Jason that he would _never_ \-- but he knows this is as much for Jason's sake as for Erik's, that Jason's years of friendship demand no less. "His pace," Charles says. "I understand."

Jason takes a deep breath and glances back at the door. "I think my two minutes are just about up-- Kurt said I got two minutes to do this and then he was coming after me. So." To Charles's surprise, Jason offers him a handshake. "Erik's my brother. Welcome to the family."

Surprised, Charles can only smile at that, shaking his hand. "Thank you, Jason."

On the heels of his thanks, there's another soft _bamf_ and a light wisp of smoke, and Kurt appears, wrapping his arms around Jason from behind. Jason doesn't even seem startled, leaning back into Kurt's arms. "Two minutes! Are we done? Have you given the speech?" Kurt meets Charles's eyes with a grin. "I hear it was all the 'I will eat your liver' and so on business. Done with? Yes?"

"I think so," Charles laughs.

"Good! Hello again, Charles." Kurt nuzzles Jason's cheek, and Jason seems to go a bit weak at the knees, turning so he can nuzzle Kurt back.

"Hello, Kurt. I was just telling Jason," Charles gestures, "that I've never seen you happier."

"I have never been happier!" Kurt's hug rocks the two of them side to side, and Jason laughs, too. "Look at my beautiful husband!" He wraps his tail around Jason's waist and squeezes him. "Just _look_."

When Jason opens his eyes again, Charles can see stars in them-- twirling golden stars in both eyes, and when he looks deeper, he sees constellations, comets, the entire universe laid out in Jason's eyes. Jason blinks a few times and groans out loud. "Oh, _God_ , I've been trying to keep it in for _hours_ now, but I just can't anymore, honey, I can't--"

A display of fireworks streaks out from the floor at their feet, exploding into gold and silver sparks in the air. When Charles doesn't jump back, more fireworks follow, red and pink, blue and green, every color of the rainbow as Jason rubs his cheek against Kurt's.

This time Charles can't help himself, reaching out to feel the sparks burst against his palm. He can feel the heat of them, the slight displacement of air as they explode, but there's no pain, no danger. It's beautiful, and when Jason sags against Kurt, Charles clears his throat and tucks his hands into his pockets-- that sound spoke of all sorts of relief, meant for Kurt alone, surely.

"You know it is not healthy to hold it for that long," Kurt teases, kissing the side of Jason's face. "It will come out of your ears next!" He nuzzles Jason's ear, and Jason laughs. "But I think someone liked them..."

Jason manages to look up at Charles. "Oh," he says, sounding and looking dizzy. "Good..."

Kurt's moved on to Jason's neck, nuzzling, and when Jason tilts his head up, Kurt nuzzles higher and higher against the back of his neck. "I told you," Kurt murmurs, "that if you were," another pause, and Charles starts to wonder if they've forgotten he's there at all, "nice enough to show off..."

"We can't," Jason groans, not moving away, "we can't, don't, not there..."

"We would only be gone a few minutes," Kurt tempts. Charles eyes the door to the reception hall.

" _You_ think."

"I do think!"

"Wait wait wait--" It seems Jason's noticed the way Charles is sidling toward the door, and he breaks away from Kurt with what must be superhuman-- and not only in the genetic sense-- effort. "Listen, before you go-- let me-- here."

Charles hesitates, and suddenly he's in a field, out in the open. It's bright daylight, it seems as if it must be near noon, and he and Jason and Kurt are still in their tuxedos while a pair of teenage boys come running through the grass. One of them is tall, slender to the point that he'd look frail if he weren't so obviously strong, and the other is shorter, dark hair, a familiar bronze wristband wrapped around his left wrist.

They aren't aware of Charles and Jason and Kurt, and Charles realizes after a moment that they haven't gone anywhere: they're sunk deeply into an illusion. He looks over at Jason, his eyebrows raised, and suddenly there's a time and place superimposed over the bottom of the field, as if they're all in a movie: _Nebraska, 1999._

Charles looks back at the teenagers, and of course it's them, _of course_ it is... it's a fresh-faced, seventeen-year-old Jason, and his best friend... Erik, at sixteen years old.

Stunned, overcome, Charles goes perfectly still, as if he might disturb the tableau. Kurt comes to him, his arm around Charles's shoulders, his tail wrapped gently around Charles's hand, and Charles squeezes reflexively. At Kurt's other side, Jason stands quietly, his hand slipped into Kurt's.

Jason-- the Jason in the memory-- lifts his hand, and an illusionary frisbee comes into being. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go."

"Wait," the Erik in the memory tells him. He turns-- looking off to the side, the sun just beginning to set behind him, his eyes closed as he breaks into a huge smile. That smile-- oh, God, that smile, it feels so _personal_ , this isn't like watching a film or a television show at all. Charles can feel everything Jason felt at the time, all that yearning, the unconditional friendship and love between them, those emotions that Jason could barely even name... the way he'd keep on feeling those things, even though it was clear that the only person Erik would ever feel that way for was...

"Him again?" the Jason in the memory asks, walking up to Erik and reaching out, hesitating-- and then letting his hand drop, not quite brave enough to touch Erik's shoulder the way he wants.

" _Him_ ," Erik breathes. Charles's eyes sting with tears, there's nothing he can do about it. Erik's eyes open, and he turns to look at Jason, so happy, so fiercely delighted, and... _relieved_ , as well. Grateful that he has someone to talk to about this, someone who'll listen.

Maybe Jason's doing it on purpose, because he knows Charles is a telepath, or maybe all these emotions are just a natural part of the illusion, and it's only a coincidence that Charles's telepathy lets him sense them. But Charles can read echoes of emotion in this, what Jason felt, what Jason saw in Erik at the time. All that history is coming to him along with the illusion. At any other time, Charles would be powerfully intrigued by that, curious to know what other emotions Jason projects with memories, what it feels like if he replays things he doesn't remember quite so perfectly...

But this is Erik. His Erik. Sixteen years old, standing in a field in Nebraska, overjoyed by the connection between them. It's clear enough that Erik didn't understand whatever message Charles was trying to send, Erik's said as much-- that he never got the words-- but Erik's _happy_.

"I can almost hear him," Erik says softly. "God, I can't wait to seek. I can't wait to meet him."

Charles's eyes brim, and Kurt quickly steps out of the way as Charles reaches for Jason's-- the _real_ Jason's-- hand. He squeezes it, presses it with both of his own, and Jason slowly fades the memory out around them, leaving them standing in the corridor outside the reception gallery.

"Thank you," Charles whispers.

"You're welcome." Jason clasps Charles's hands between his own. "I wish I could leave it running. But..."

"It is time to go back in," Kurt murmurs. "But later, some other time..."

"Yes," Jason says. "Absolutely. Just tell me when."

Charles nods to both of them. "I... thank you so much. Yes." He lets go of Jason's hand and digs for Erik's handkerchief, blotting his face again. "If I don't see you before Erik and I go... have a wonderful honeymoon."

Kurt beams at him, running his tongue over the tips of his fangs. "Beyond any doubt, mein Freund."

Laughing a little, Charles says, "Auf Wiedersehn," and the two of them disappear in a bamf of smoke and sulfur.

\---

The news about Erik and Charles spreads around the room as though passed along via telepathic broadcast; before Erik knows it, he's surrounded by cheerful Wyngardes, all of them reaching out to shake his hand.

"We're so happy for you, Erik--"

"Is Jason out there giving him the big-brother speech? That's so sweet!"

"All this time and you finally found each other! How romantic is that?"

"I'm glad he wasn't dead," Ben says loudly. His parents look at each other; Chris drops his face into his palm. "I thought you were gonna marry Jason!"

"Watch it, spider-monkey," Jason says, as he and Kurt reappear. He tugs Ben close and gives him a noogie, and Ben lets out a gleeful cackle, turning around and tackling Kurt. He scrambles up Kurt, who puts up with it gracefully, and once Ben's high enough, he passes the noogie on, ruffling Kurt's hair. Kurt bamfs out of Ben's arms, though, and Jason deftly catches Ben when he falls, setting Ben on his feet.

"Again again _again_ ," Ben chants, looking around for Kurt. Susan tugs him back and holds onto his hand.

"You two are going to be such good parents someday," she says. "Ben, you know you're not supposed to climb people!"

"Awww, _Mom_..."

Erik glances around, frowning when he can't spot Charles in the crowd. "Is everything all right?" he asks Jason. "You were nice, I hope..."

"He was lovely," Kurt says. "At least for the parts I saw."

"It's fine. He needs a second, that's all."

"A second what?" Charles calls out, and Erik turns, smiling broadly.

«You can have seconds on whatever you'd like, but won't we have to go back to the hotel to have all those firsts...?» Erik tries. Charles seems to focus narrowly on him to get the words, but once he does, he's pulling Erik right back into his arms, hugging him.

He's holding on much more tightly than Erik would have expected; Erik strokes his hair and sends a tentative, «Are you all right? Did Jason say anything...?»

«He said several things. This is about something good.» Charles squeezes him again. «I love you so much, Erik.»

"I love you, too," Erik says aloud. He pulls back to look Charles in the eyes. «Find your friends. I'll find Magda. The minute we have safe calls arranged, we can go, we can be _alone._ »

«There's no hurry.» Charles reaches up and strokes Erik's shoulders. «We don't have to rush anything.»

Erik's so grateful, right now, that everyone knows about them, that they can lose themselves in one another even in a crowd. «After eight years, nothing can really be considered rushing.»

«I don't want to speed through anything. I want to explore everything with you, like we would've done if we'd met when we were younger.» Charles stands on his toes to kiss Erik, but he doesn't let himself get lost in that kiss, backing out of it before it kindles. Erik might not have had the willpower to do the same. «It was taken from us before, but we can have that time back now.»

"Really, Charles, I'm surprised you haven't put a leash on him already. I'm sure someone has an extra somewhere." Charles startles, pulling back from Erik's arms, and Erik goes a little rigid himself. He knows that voice, too. "If this were at a hotel you could call down to the concierge, but as it happens, the gift shop here doesn't seem to carry art-printed collars. They ought to consider it."

"Emma," Charles says. He turns fully to face her, and she extends a hand to him-- palm up, to Erik's surprise. Charles does a slight bow... a _practiced_ bow, from the look of it... and kisses the inside of her palm. While Erik's still reeling, Charles adds more formally, "Mistress Frost."

She smiles indulgently at him and turns to Erik, lifting an eyebrow at him. "So nice to see you again, Erik." There's no need to ask where _her_ sub is, or her leash for him; the gorgeous submissive with perfect form he remembers from Fetbook is even more attractive in the flesh. Having come up to Erik and Charles with her, now he kneels at her side and just behind, his collar attached to a leash looped casually around her left wrist. His corset vest has him cinched in much more tightly than Erik's does; reflexively, Erik pulls the metal boning of his own a bit tighter to compensate. He feels ridiculous already, doing that, and it doesn't help when Emma's eyes drift down and linger at his waist.

"Hello," Erik manages. He nods to Peter as well. "Hello."

"Peter, this is that Erik Lehnsherr I told you about. Erik, this is my boy, Peter Wallace."

Peter bows his head, somehow looking composed and graceful on the gallery floor-- it's so obvious he's well-trained, he must have been through years of finishing school. Erik looks from Peter to Emma, too shocked to think better of what he's saying before he blurts it out: "You told him about me? All I said was 'no'."

Emma's smile holds amusement but no warmth. "That in itself is worth talking about. It's not something I hear very often."

In an effort to avoid looking at Charles _or_ Emma, Erik ends up training his eyes on the floor. "Ah."

"It's not always a bad thing to be a rarity," Emma says lightly.

"You've met Erik...?" Charles asks, and Erik can't help tensing; there's no telling what she'll say.

"We ran into each other last week," she answers. "I'd've been a little less forward if I'd known that he's yours."

Charles's smile in response to that is open and dazzling, and the look he casts on Erik... with a perfect submissive kneeling a few feet away, Erik's acutely aware he doesn't deserve that adoring look. Charles's expression shifts to concern, and he clasps both his hands around Erik's, looking back at Emma. "What's this about 'forward'?"

"I offered Erik some time on my floor," Emma says blithely.

Charles's hands go tight on Erik's. "Did you," he says, a line forming between his brows.

"I said no," Erik tells Charles, although he can't help another look back at Peter. If he'd said yes, maybe he'd be able to do whatever it is Charles is going to expect tonight. Maybe it would have gone well, maybe he could have convinced her to offer him some training. Charles is going to want so many things from him, and Erik doesn't have a clue how to do any of them.

Emma tilts her head slightly, looking at Erik, and then ignores him completely as she turns back to Charles. "I'm surprised you'd have any objections. You certainly learned a lot at my feet."

"I suppose that's true enough," Charles says dryly. Erik blinks at him-- no objections, even now...?

He's trying to gather himself enough to ask the question-- _you want me to...?_ \-- when Charles goes on, "But I don't expect either of us will be likely to kneel for anyone in the foreseeable future, sorry."

Relief floods Erik, followed by startlement. «Either of us?» he sends, this time before he can stop himself.

"Oh, you haven't told him," Emma purrs.

Charles glances from Emma to Erik and gives her an exasperated look. "Your eavesdropping is _not_ appreciated," he says firmly, wrapping one arm around Erik's waist. Erik still feels too stiff to enjoy that closeness, although the sensation of Charles's hand splayed across the metal ribs of his corset vest is distracting enough to ease his mind just a little.

Until he remembers what Emma _said_. "Told me what?"

"I submitted to Emma for a while when I was living in Boston," Charles says. "An apprenticeship of sorts."

Emma's tone is just the same-- low and predatory-- when she says, "You make it sound so transactional."

Charles laughs that off, shaking his head. "You gave me away! How was that not transactional?"

Apprenticeship by way of submission, that's not so unusual-- old-fashioned, but something Erik's familiar with. A dominant being given away in the course of that, though... that's a gesture of ownership that submissives aren't often subjected to anymore, let alone apprenticing dominants. He can only send confusion to Charles, and Charles squeezes him a bit in reassurance. Meanwhile, Erik can feel Peter's eyes roaming over him, and when he looks down at Peter, Peter smirks.

Charles notices that, too, arching an eyebrow. "Mind your boy, Emma," he says, though he's looking at Peter, whose smirk shifts to him and takes on a wry quality. If it's possible, Erik goes even more rigid in the curve of Charles's arm; he can't even imagine what it would be like hearing someone tell Charles _mind your boy_ and mean _him_.

Erik can't hide that response from Charles, either. Charles can feel everything through their bond, and he must be feeling the way Erik's growing more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

Emma slides her hands a few inches up Peter's leash, not enough to physically reel him in, just enough to make a point. Erik can't imagine being on the receiving end of something like that, either; even when he was a teenager, kneeling in his bed and thinking _I'm yours_ at Charles with his whole heart, he never really imagined himself leashed.

"Eyes down," Emma says. Peter casts his eyes to the floor. Erik drags his eyes off Peter-- and not knowing what else to do, where else to look, he ends up doing the same, looking at the floor and hoping this conversation will end soon.

"I'm sure we'll have more opportunity to catch up later," Charles says, and that's a tone of voice that would probably stop any urge Erik had to argue with him in its tracks. While he doesn't expect Emma to have the same response, he isn't surprised when she makes a soft affirmative sound, and with his eyes locked on the floor, he can see the shift of motion when Peter's leash pulls tight and he rises smoothly to his feet.

"I plan on holding you to that," Emma says. "Maybe next week."

"I'll get in touch," Charles says.

"Congratulations again on finding one another."

"Thank you." 

Erik doesn't add anything to that; he has the distinct impression that Emma's one of those dommes who believes subs should stay quiet and let the dominants speak. Peter doesn't add his congratulations, after all.

But he can hear from the footsteps that she's gone, and when Charles reaches up to gently rub Erik's back, Erik leans into that comfort and looks back up at Charles. "I'm sorry if I wasn't--"

He doesn't know how to complete that thought, and Charles waits for only a moment before shaking his head and coming up on his toes to kiss Erik's cheek. "She was _trying_ to startle you," he says. "It's part of her approach." Another brief moment, and Charles adds, "Emma and Peter and I don't share the same philosophy of power exchange. Or relationships in general. That's not what I'd ever expect with you."

Erik takes a breath. This isn't the time or the place to tell Charles about him-- about all the complicated things that orientation means to him-- but it's a relief to know Charles isn't expecting what Emma and Peter have. "Thank you," he murmurs.

Charles wraps his arms around Erik's neck and kisses him again, very lightly. Erik draws his hands down Charles's back, pulling Charles close; he needs that so badly right now, that connection, the sense that even if it's only this, Charles will still want him.

The slight shift of Charles's hips against his makes Erik vividly aware that Charles _does_ still want him, and Erik breaks off the kiss, breathing a bit more heavily than is really appropriate in public.

«I need you. I need to be alone with you. Can we go, _please_...»

Charles nods, hands slipping onto Erik's shoulders, and then down to his chest, as he steps back a bit. Erik hopes his body isn't betraying him too badly, but as far as everyone at the wedding is concerned, he's just met his soulmate; it won't be too surprising if he's... eager.

"Magda's over there," Charles says, touching his temple and nodding toward the left side of the room. "And Armando and Alex are that way. I'll meet you at the door in five minutes?"

"Yes," Erik says. Charles squeezes his hand, and even as they head for opposite sides of the room, they don't let go until they absolutely have to, fingers slipping free of each other only when their reach is drawn as far as it can go.

Charles was right about Magda; she turns and sees Erik heading her way and gives him a smile and a wave. When he catches up to her, she mock-pouts at him. "I don't get to meet him?"

"You will, I promise," Erik says. "But I wanted to ask if you'd be my safe call tonight, so obviously we couldn't--"

"Ah, yeah, code words aren't much good if your dom's standing right there, huh?" Magda pauses. "Is that... are you okay, is that going to be okay? Kick me if I'm getting too personal, but I know the orientation thing..."

"I think I'll be all right. Thank you for asking, though." Erik takes a deep breath. "Is two too late to call?"

"No, it'll be fine." Magda looks around the room and waves a hand. "I bet I won't even get out of here until midnight, and I live a good forty-five minutes from here. I'll still be awake."

"Thank you." Erik smiles. "As for code words..."

"Tell me the hotel room's nice, if everything's all clear. And say something about room service if you need me to get someone to come after you. What hotel is he staying at?"

"The Hotel Commonwealth."

"Perfect, thanks." She pulls him into a hug. "If you need anything-- and I don't mean, if something catastrophic happens, I just mean... if you need a friend, if you need to talk... anything at all. I'm here. You can call me."

It almost seems like more than he deserves. He brushes the backs of his fingers gently across her cheek when he draws back. "Thank you. For everything."

"Have a wonderful night, Erik. I'm so glad for you."

"Thank you for that, too." Erik squeezes her hand. "Do you want to meet him now?"

"Absolutely."

"Come on, then," he says, with a smile so wide it threatens to break him. "Let me introduce you to my soulmate."

\---

"I guess you got everything worked out," Armando says, pulling Charles into a hug. "I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah, happy-- does he do foursomes?" Alex asks. Charles's arms go a bit tighter around Armando, and Armando sighs.

"You could at least let them acknowledge before you start in on that," Armando chides gently. He eases back and looks at Charles. "Speaking of which, can we be your safe call tonight?"

"I was already planning on asking."

"Do the codewords with 'fruit bat' in them, I always like hearing you work that into a conversation," Alex says, smirking.

"You would," Charles laughs. He ruffles Alex's hair, stopping just shy of a mind-your-place gesture. "I don't know if we'll be ready for foursomes anytime soon." Mostly because after a night of watching other people hugging Erik, kissing his cheek, touching his hand, Charles is sure he won't be at all interested in sharing Erik with anyone for a long time, not even his closest friends.

"We'll expect to hear from you by..." Armando checks his watch. "Four?"

"Does that mean you're going to keep me up really late?" Alex asks Armando, eyebrows wiggling.

"Trust me, boy, I'm gonna make it worth your while." Armando smiles right back.

Charles takes in a breath; he looks across the room for Erik, but Erik's already on his way over to them, holding Magda's hand. Once he reaches the three of them, though, he slips his hand out of hers and reaches out for Charles-- which is more than mollifying. Charles wraps an arm around Erik's waist and nods at Magda. "Hello."

"Hi there." Magda sticks her hand out; Charles has to let go of Erik to take it. "I'm Magda Maximoff."

"Charles Xavier," Charles offers. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, too."

"Our turn next," Alex says.

"Of course-- Ms. Maximoff, this is Armando Muñoz, and his bondmate, Alex Summers."

Handshakes all around; Armando tilts his head and says, "You know, I think I recognize that name, Maximoff-- are you with the MRL here in Boston?"

"Yes!" Magda smiles. "I interned with them while I was in law school, and after I was finished, I didn't want to leave."

"Yeah, I don't blame you, the MRL does some great work."

«Are we all set?» Erik sends. He slides his arm around Charles's waist and tugs him close-- close enough that between the move and all the things Charles is sensing from him, Charles has to suck in a fast breath and hope no one's noticing what Erik's nearness is doing to him. «Can we go?»

«Yes!» Charles looks from Armando and Alex to Magda. "Not to interrupt, but we're going," he tells them.

"Already?" This time Alex sweeps his own hand over his head. "Sorry, I know, I get it. I remember our acknowledgment night..."

"You _better_ ," Armando laughs.

"Have a good night, you two," Magda says. "And if you need anything--" Her eyes lock onto Erik's. "Anything at all. Call me."

Whatever she might mean by that, Erik seems to get the message. He tightens his arm around Charles's waist and nods.

"Good night!" Armando says as they leave. "Congratulations again!"

Charles only detours them slightly on the way to the door, passing by his table to pick up his votive holder. Just holding it in his hand makes him unutterably happy-- it's a matter of hours since he hoped the engraving on the candleholder meant something for them, and now he knows. He beams at Erik, stroking across the curving lines of those etched letters, and Erik shudders; oh, _that's_ fascinating, Charles wants to know exactly what that's all about, how far Erik's sensitivity to metal extends. He tucks the votive carefully into his pocket, and from there, they make a beeline for the exit.

They're almost to the door when a banner pops in, appearing above the doorway. Erik steps back, laughing, and Charles looks up-- that could only be the work of one man, and he looks over at Jason, who's back at the head table with Kurt, waving.

The banner reads CONGRATULATIONS ERIK AND CHARLES, and Jason lets out a piercing whistle-- illusion-enhanced, no doubt-- that gets everyone's attention.

"One more toast tonight, people," Jason says. His voice carries through the room, and he lifts his glass, as does Kurt. "To Erik and Charles, who found each other tonight after way too fucking long."

" _Jason_!"

"--way too long," Jason amends. "Sorry, Mom." There's a lot of laughter, and Charles wraps his arms around Erik, holding him tightly. "Now get out of here! You guys are seriously stealing the spotlight."

More laughter, glasses clinking; Erik pulls Charles out of the room, his happiness lighting up the bond so powerfully that Charles can't stop smiling.


	13. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (4/11)

As they hail a cab, Charles comes briefly to his senses. Erik's apprehension when Emma tried to rattle him, and how successful she was at it... Jason's warning that Erik's been rushed into things in the past... Erik said, when they were first talking-- when they first _met_ \-- that he didn't submit anymore. Corset vest or no corset vest, it's clear Charles needs to take extra care to respect Erik's limits. 

He's lucky it's December. The burst of cold air outside the museum gets through to Charles, clears his head a fraction. Enough to know clarity isn't going to last, the moment he gets Erik alone.

Once they're both in the cab, Charles leans forward to tell the driver, "We're going to Hotel Commonwealth; could you take the long way round, please?"

The driver regards him briefly in the rearview mirror. "There's not really a long way to the Commonwealth..."

"Then the long way out of the way. Try to make it ten minutes."

The driver shrugs. "Whatever you say."

"Ten minutes?" Erik asks, leaning closer to Charles in the back seat. "I don't know if I can wait that long." He smiles, the bond glowing with affection, a teasing sense of humor.

"I don't want to hurry anything," Charles says. He pauses, faltering a bit. "I feel I've hurt us both too much by trying to rush."

Erik frowns for a moment in confusion; he reaches out and strokes Charles's hair, his fingertips resting just above Charles's joining spot. "I don't feel rushed."

All the blood in Charles's body seems collect in two places: his joining spot, and his cock. He takes a swift, desperate breath. "Oh. Good..."

"But if you want time to negotiate before we're _alone_ together..." Erik lets his hand slide off Charles's hair and turns halfway in his seat to face him. His hands are both palms-up on his lap now, his inner wrists showing just above the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. "Just tell me where you think we ought to start."

Charles can't possibly resist that. Erik feels so happy right now. Happy, excited, and _in love_. How Charles can possibly be lucky enough that his soulmate still loves him, after all this time, after all the things Charles _did_ to them, all the ways he failed, he doesn't know. But somehow, Erik's sitting beside him, giving him wave after wave of love through the bond, and his wrists are turned up in an offer that's taking Charles's breath away.

Still. His pace. Erik's pace. Charles is a responsible dominant. Charles teaches seminars on safe practices in domination and submission. He may have too much ego tied up in his reputation as a responsible scene partner, but at least he can use that now to help compel himself to uphold it, in the face of more temptation than he ever imagined he'd feel, ever imagined he _could_ feel.

He lays a finger across the inside of Erik's wrist, tracing a gentle line there-- shivering right along with Erik when he feels what that touch does to Erik, _God_. "Power exchange would seem to be the first topic at hand."

"Yes," Erik whispers.

 _Yes._ One little word, and Charles's head swims. He has to close his eyes for a moment in order to gather his thoughts even marginally well enough to keep talking. Where to even start? "As I said, I submitted to Emma, several years ago."

Erik blinks, almost jerking upright. "I've tried topping. I'm not--" He bites his lower lip. Confusion is written all over him, the bond almost throwing off static from Erik's mental tangle. Hesitantly, he adds, "I'm not opposed to doing more of it, if that's what you want...?"

Charles smiles at him. To think that all those years ago he wondered if Erik was coming into his own dominance, if their orientations were incompatible. Erik's wrists are still offered up to him; Charles wraps his hand around one and squeezes gently. Erik's confusion melts away, leaving behind nothing but arousal and urgency and a vulnerable sense of tentative trust that Charles would do _anything_ to preserve. "No. Submitting never felt quite right for me; I came out of that experience feeling as if even pro forma switching would be a stretch."

Erik's smile is so beautiful; the happiness coming through the bond is everything Charles could have hoped for. "Then we don't have to switch," he says softly. "I haven't submitted to anyone in years, not--" he pauses, his expression clouding for a moment-- "not intentionally. But I _want_..." He looks down at Charles's hand on his wrist. «God, Charles, I want...»

Charles squeezes Erik's wrist, barely keeping hold of himself now. Erik projecting thoughts to him like that, with nothing but welcome in his mind... Charles has never felt anything like it.

Negotiation. He asked for this cab ride to be longer on purpose; they need to negotiate, they _need_ this. "I--" Charles has to clear his throat, his voice has grown so thick with need. "I did walk away from my apprenticeship with a more flexible notion of what dominance can mean."

"Flexible?" Erik smiles at him. "Mistress Frost doesn't seem the least bit flexible to me. At least not when--" He stops, briefly, but then seems to gather his courage and go on anyway. "Not when she asked if I wanted to spend some time on her floor."

Fire races up Charles's spine; even having heard that before, even knowing nothing happened between them, part of him can't stand the thought of other dominants even _looking_ at Erik. His grip on Erik's wrist tightens, and Erik groans, his eyes closing as he tilts his head back.

How has _anyone_ ever thought this man was unoriented or dominant? The least touch on his wrist and he shows throat. Charles is so tempted to lean over and bite that long expanse of pale skin, mark it as _his own_ , and all he can feel from Erik is desire, need, a longing to be claimed. As if Charles isn't longing for it every bit as fervently.

"I'm not Emma," Charles says. "And I'm not any of the dominants you've scened with before." He has another blinding burst of jealousy, thinking of whoever it is who's been with Erik every morning back in Pittsburgh. It wasn't Logan; it must have been someone he left behind for the wedding. It can't be exclusive, since Erik's here with him, but even an open relationship with someone else is hard for Charles to take, even now that it's over-- surely, after everything that's passed between them tonight, it must be over. 

He wants to put his claim all over Erik; he wants to march Erik back to Pittsburgh and tell whoever it is that Erik's dominant has come back for him at last, that everyone else can just _sod off_.

These are not instincts he's proud of. With Jason's warning still ringing in his ears, he's determined not to invite any comparisons with the man who tore them apart and tied himself to Erik. If that means taking things slow, if that means strangling down these possessive urges, then that's what he'll do. Charles eases his grip on Erik's wrist, and forces himself to let go completely.

"I'm your soulmate," Charles says. "And I love you. I want to be with you. That's what matters to me, more than anything. We have time, we don't have to hurry. Whatever you're ready to give me, I'll be grateful for it."

Erik barely manages to get his eyes open, blinking over at Charles. "I-- yes," he says, and then again, more strongly, " _Yes._ I feel the same."

This time, Charles slips his hand into Erik's, threading their fingers together. "When I said I walked away from Emma with more flexible ideas about what domination meant... Erik, even when we were young, you've always felt like a forceful personality to me. I love that."

Erik looks down at their clasped hands, his other hand coming over so he can trace Charles's cufflink with his fingertip. Charles really does owe Armando and Alex everything for this; he can't believe how much it helped, wearing something of Erik's when they met again. 

Of course, Charles can understand that. If he'd known that windcatcher was _his_ , if he'd been watching it dangle off Erik's wrist all night knowing Erik thought of it as belonging _to Charles_...

Really, Charles isn't sure they would have made it past the receiving line without Charles dragging Erik into a corner and having his way with him. Maybe the wait is a good thing, after all.

As Erik finishes tracing the curve of his cufflink, he murmurs, "I appreciate that, Charles. But I'm not sure 'forceful' is the right word for how I'm feeling now."

Never mind; to hell with waiting. No, no, a bit more, just a little longer... Charles swallows, trying to gather himself. "I want to meet you on terms that give you space to be yourself with me," he says roughly. "All of yourself. I want all of you."

Erik meets his eyes, and the longer they spend looking at each other, the hotter that gaze becomes. When Erik speaks again, his voice is quiet, nearly breathless. "You have me."

Deep breath, now; they're getting into the thick of it, Charles has to ask the questions, has to _listen_. He squeezes Erik's hand. "I want to know your limits, as well. That's a part of you, too."

Erik leans forward, his eyes closing as he rests his brow against Charles's temple. His voice is clear in Charles's mind, as clear as it's been yet, when he sends, «I can't play with electricity or blades. I'll try not to go quiet on you. But I'm yours. I don't want to hold anything back.»

Oh, God. Oh, God, how is Charles meant to think about anything, after that? He's severely testing his own limits with this. «It's not about holding back,» he tries. «I want to meet you on this. I want to give to you, as well. What do you want from me?»

Erik feels so _happy_. He feels so happy, every time Charles sends thoughts to him. If Charles had been nervous about sharing thoughts with Erik, after everything his ability did to Erik before, that apprehension is fading by the moment. 

And when Erik sends to him again, his thoughts ring through every nerve in Charles's body, because what Erik sends is, «I want you to put me on my knees.»

Charles turns, almost capturing Erik's mouth in a kiss-- but if he starts kissing Erik now, they'll never get to the end of this conversation. Jason said, _his pace_... Charles wants it to be Erik's pace, Charles wants that... but Erik just _said_... «What do you want, once you're there?»

Erik reaches up and cups Charles's cheek, his thumb moving to the corner of Charles's mouth. «Maybe...» he thinks. Charles has surely just earned a sainthood for not drawing Erik's thumb into his mouth, not sucking and licking and showing Erik all the things he wants to do with his lips and mouth and tongue. 

«Maybe your hotel room has some metal cuffs we could use...? And we could start with my mouth on you.» Erik's thumb brushes back and forth against Charles's lower lip. «Wherever you'd like it.»

Finally, Charles finds his voice. "Are we nearly there?"

"Sure," the driver mutters, taking a quick right turn.

Charles leans into Erik's hand. «Kiss me.»

«Yes...» Erik moves to lean in. It only takes a hint of motion, and then Erik's there, kissing him, so gentle compared to that desperate, last-chance kiss earlier. Erik's lips are soft, his mouth open, and he gives Charles a soft little moan and a questioning sensation through the bond-- nervousness, as if he isn't sure whether he's doing it right, if he's giving Charles what he wants.

Charles can reassure him on that score, at least. He slides one arm around Erik's shoulders, his other hand coming up to rest on Erik's chest. «Do you understand, you're everything I ever dreamed you'd be, all in one kiss...»

More nervousness bubbles up in Erik as he breaks off to take an unsteady breath. «I was so afraid we weren't going to have this. That I'd finally met you and we still wouldn't--» He cuts himself off, kissing Charles again deeply.

As badly as Charles wants to take the kiss further, take over and make sure Erik knows just who he belongs to... _with,_ belongs _with_... for one thing, they're still in the cab, and for another, he wants Erik to know they truly don't have to rush. Even this much is beyond any hopes Charles had, when he first began to feel the bond again in June. It's so much to him just to feel that Erik wants him, when all those years he thought he'd been pushed away.

But of course he can't tell Erik that, either; not without hurting Erik by reminding him of all those things Charles so wrongly believed. Charles nearly ruined everything with his assumptions and his accusations. He's not letting his insecurities rob them of this second chance, miracle that it is.

He draws back a little, enough to keep that kiss from growing into something more. They're minutes from being alone. He can wait.

«I was afraid, too. That I'd lost you forever,» Charles admits. Erik's pang of regret matches his own; he tightens his arm around Erik's shoulders. «I've been wrong in so many ways. I never want to hurt you again.»

Erik reaches up to Charles's jacket, clutches at his lapel. «I really hope you will,» he sends, desire so thick between them his thoughts nearly shimmer with heat. «I can think of all sorts of ways I'd like you to hurt me...»

The cab comes to a stop then, thankfully; Charles isn't sure he could answer for what he was about to do. He breaks away from Erik as the driver clears his throat, and as soon as he's fumbled a handful of far too much cash out of his wallet, he clamps his hand down on Erik's wrist and pulls Erik out of the cab with him. Erik goes, eagerly, the bond lighting up with excitement and anticipation. Why is the suite so far away? It'll take minutes to get there. There had better not be a wait for the lift-- or anyone else waiting for it.

He takes Erik's hand and guides him through the lobby. "This way."

"All right," Erik says. He slips his fingers through Charles's. So much thrilled happiness is coming through the bond that Charles isn't sure where his feelings end and Erik's begin; right now it's all the same, a single fire burning between them.

With a Herculean effort, Charles manages to get them into the suite and _close the door_ before he turns to Erik and holds him again. 

He slips a hand into Erik's jacket, spreads his hand at the small of Erik's back and lightly pushes at the eyelets down the back of Erik's corset vest, and Erik gasps for him. For _him_. Charles tips up, coming up on his toes, and kisses Erik: alone, in private, he can finally kiss Erik the way he's always wanted to.

And Erik can kiss him _back_. He might have said before that he wasn't feeling forceful, but his kiss meets Charles's note-for-note, possessiveness and heat and desperation all melting together. Charles can feel the pulse of Erik's eager consent through the bond, the _yes, yes, yes_ in Erik's mind. It's perfect, _this_ is perfect, they're finally _together_.

«I love you,» Charles sends, swallowing up the pleased little groan Erik gives him in return. «I want to take you to bed.»

«Please take me to bed,» Erik sends back, nearly garbled with urgency. He takes his hands off Charles just long enough to struggle out of his trenchcoat, and Charles does the same, thick wool and combed cotton piling up at their feet. He can't keep his hands off Erik for very long, though, reaching under Erik's tuxedo jacket and stroking his hands up and down the thin steel boning of Erik's corset vest. That move almost takes Erik apart; he clutches at Charles's sleeves, breathing out heavily against Charles's mouth. «Please. Please, Charles. Bed. _Now_.»

Could Charles possibly stand a chance against Erik begging? He can't imagine how. He pulls Erik back into the room with him, leading him over to the bed. «I want you so much,» he sends, revelling when that phrase lights Erik up head to foot, when it makes Erik reach for Charles's joining spot and kiss him all the harder.

Charles gets Erik stretched out on the bed, on _their_ bed, their acknowledgment bed-- all this extra space in the Reading Suite seems full of possibility now, the huge bed, the window seat, the solid wingback chairs, the oversized shower and tub. Maybe it's better that Erik couldn't see him before the wedding after all; if they wind up triggering seeker rush for one another, they don't have any more obligations now, nothing that could keep them from spending the next three or four days here, wrapped up with each other, only stumbling out of this room to eat. Or not even then, if they order room service.

He kisses Erik hungrily, stroking his face, running his fingers over and through the soft buzz of Erik's hair. It seems less severe now than it did when they first met, a bit longer. It's still not quite long enough to get a grip on. Charles curves his hand against the side of Erik's head, his thumb at Erik's temple, his fingers spread. «I want you.»

Erik presses Charles back a bit, just enough to look at him. He looks into Charles's eyes, nervousness starting to well up enough to compete with the excitement. «Please...»

«Anything,» Charles promises, leaning down to suck gently at Erik's lower lip. «Anything, love. Anything at all. Tell me.»

«It's been forever,» Erik sends, fingers tightening on Charles's lapels. «Please, Charles. I don't want to get this wrong, it's been so long since I submitted, I haven't practiced-- I don't really know what I'm doing-- tell me what to do.»

A thousand possibilities occur to Charles, all of them fighting to be first. _His pace, his pace..._ but Erik's right there, under him, begging Charles to tell him what to do.

He's had a direct line to Erik's emotions, he knows that Erik feels a great deal that never shows through his razor-sharp, steely veneer, but it's still moving to be _let in_ like this, to feel Erik's willing exposure.

Charles takes a few fortifying breaths. He can go slowly. He can take this easy. He won't rush Erik. It's already perfect, just as it is, just feeling how much Erik loves him and wants him; the rest is just a... delicious, incredible, irresistible... bonus.

«Just be with me. Touch me. It doesn't have to be anything more complicated than that right now,» he assures Erik. When he feels the nervousness starting to wane, he runs his hand up Erik's corset. Erik's eyes almost roll back in his head; Charles repeats the motion and earns a deep shudder and a moan in return. «This looks fantastic on you, but I think it's time for it to come off.»

Erik's smile has to be seen to be believed; he's positively radiant, showing off an almost startling quantity of teeth. «I haven't worn one of these in a long time... I'm glad you liked it.» He pushes himself up on one elbow and starts to shrug out of his dinner jacket. «This too, I hope?»

«As appealing as you'd be in nothing but that, yes, let's have it off.» Charles grins and slides his hands under Erik's dinner jacket, easing it off his shoulders. After that there's still going to be the corset vest to think about, and the dress shirt, and probably an undershirt beneath that before he reaches bare skin. It's absurd; Charles wants to be touching him _now_. «And everyone always complains about my layers!»

«Well, we were at a wedding... you look amazing yourself.» Erik helps Charles get the jacket off, one of its arms turning inside-out as it lands on the floor. He looks back up at Charles, and reaches up with both hands to cup his face. «I still can't believe it... you're mine.»

Charles has to kiss him again at that, and the only thing that tears him away is the prospect of more of the same with less of the clothes. He draws back; it's the work of barely a few moments to get out of his own dinner jacket, to kick his shoes off onto the floor, all while undoing his tie and slipping it free of his collar, his other hand coming up to undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Erik stares up at him, bond alive with wonder and excitement, and Charles slides back on the bed to untie Erik's shoes and slip them off him as well. 

He leaves a firm caress against Erik's ankles as he starts back up, fingers trailing along the satin-lined outer seam of Erik's trousers til he straddles Erik low down on his thighs. «I'm entirely yours,» he tells Erik, words he's been waiting for months-- _years_ \-- to say.

Erik's corset vest comes apart hook-by-hook, the fine control of Erik's ability beautiful to watch in action-- not least because of what Erik's _doing_ with it. He takes a long, deep breath once he's got the vest undone, and Charles helps to spread it open, flat on the bed beneath Erik, wondering how the metal boning inside feels to Erik now that it's not tight around him. 

«You're mine,» Erik thinks up at him. «And I'm yours. And...» He squirms a bit, his arms down low by his sides, then moving so his upturned wrists are at the same level as his shoulders, moving restlessly again until his hands reach for the heavy wrought-iron bars of the bedframe. Once holding onto the metal, he calms, leaving him room to finish his thought: «You can prove it now. If you want.»

Charles doesn't know how it's possible to want someone so badly and to keep wanting him more and more all the time. He rakes his nails down Erik's chest, the scratch blunted by too many layers of fabric, but Erik arches up under him anyway, gasping. His hands come away from the bedrails, reaching for Charles's hands, or his wrists, his thumbs brushing against Charles's cufflinks.

«I'm going to be sorry to take those off,» Charles thinks, flattening his hands out and pressing them against Erik's chest.

"Off...?" Erik whispers. "Why would you need to...?"

"I want you to undress me." Charles grins. "My hands are busy," he adds, giving Erik another tease of a scratch.

"Yes, sir," Erik whispers, hoarse but heartfelt, and he flicks at both cufflinks, drawing them out of Charles's sleeves and floating them aside to the bedside table. From there, he reaches up and starts unbuttoning Charles's shirt, hands coming up to draw the shirt back over Charles's shoulders, down and off. Charles has to stop touching Erik for a few moments as the shirt comes off his arms, but it's worth it; once it's gone, Erik reaches for Charles's belt buckle, looking up with a hesitant smile. "May I? Please."

"Of course, yes."

Erik slips Charles's belt free, his fingertips caressing the leather in a way that isn't nearly subtle enough to hide his hopes for it, not with their bond so vibrant tonight. Charles grins so hard he's nearly smirking as Erik draws the belt away by the metal buckle and leaves it curled on the floor beside them; Charles scratches harder the next time, still not enough to hurt with Erik's shirt on, but it's a promise now. He's more eager than he realized for that, an exploration of Erik's masochism; more eager than he ever could have dreamed for all of this, the urge to take his soulmate and lay incredibly thorough claim to him welling up inside him until it nearly blinds him.

 _His pace,_ Charles barely manages to remind himself, gentling his touch as he trails his fingers up Erik's neck, leans down to kiss him again. Erik freezes a moment and then returns the kiss in a frenzy, tugging Charles's undershirt out from his waistband and _oh_ , Charles's zipper opens all on its own-- or rather, with a tug from Erik's ability. He undoes the metal hook-and-eye in front without having to reach for that, either, but the plastic button brings that progress to a temporary halt. 

Charles smiles against Erik's lips. «Thank you, darling,» he sends. «You're making me wish all my buttons were metal.»

Erik gets a hand between them, unbuttons Charles's trousers one-handed. «Is this all right?» he asks, reaching into Charles's trousers, flattening his hand against the lower plane of Charles's stomach. «May I?»

It's all Charles can do not to just press down against him now-- the temptation to lose himself in the feel of Erik's body underneath his is much, much stronger than he expected-- but they're still mostly-clothed, he's not going to rush _this_ of all things. He slips his hand around to the back of Erik's neck and reaches up, cupping him at soul's-home, kissing him while his other hand moves to undo Erik's tie. If Erik were collared he might have chosen a different dress shirt, the sort with a notch to display his dominant's claim on him--

Erik jerks back into Charles's touch, though, distracting Charles from that line of thought, from the unbidden fantasy of a collar around Erik's neck. «You can't even imagine... it hurt every day... and then I woke up one morning and he was _gone_...»

«Thank God for that,» Charles sends back, knee-jerk and heartfelt, his stomach clenching now at the thought of Erik, collared. If he's ever worn a collar, it didn't belong to Charles... but that delusional _bastard_ is never going to hurt anyone again, never going to touch Erik, and whatever misbegotten claim he tried to make on Erik before is gone forever. Charles tips his head down and nuzzles Erik's neck, and there it is again, that throwback instinct, a low growl rumbling through his chest as he kisses Erik's throat.

Erik reaches up to Charles's joining spot, too, tilting his head back, showing all the throat Charles could want. The bond sings out between them, Charles's whole body blazing from just that one touch. It's still so new to feel anything there at all, but it's right, _perfect_ , that Erik is the only one who's ever made him feel this way.

And that it's the same for Erik. «Just you, now,» Erik thinks. «Just you, right where you belong. You found me.»

«I never want you to feel alone again,» Charles sends.

«I won't.» Another caress against Charles's joining spot, harder this time, dragging a moan from Charles's lips. Erik echoes it; it's becoming difficult to tell where Erik's pleasure ends and his own begins. It's all one now, all the same. «We're together now.»

Drawing back from Erik is difficult-- it's the last thing Charles wants to do-- but the rest of their clothes need to be gone. _Now._ Charles all but tears his undershirt off over his head, and Erik half-sits, reaching up to trace Charles's chest with his fingertips, the tip of his tongue sweeping across his lips.

«Charles...?»

«I'm here, darling.» Charles catches Erik's hand and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. «Anything.»

Erik's eyes flick to the side of the bed, and Charles's hand tightens on Erik's as the silvery glint of that windcatcher-- Erik's windcatcher, the one he carried all these years for _him_ \-- comes into view. The rings spin as Erik lifts it, and Charles reaches out, catching it in his hand.

«You said... before, you said... that you wanted to wear it. If you still...»

«Yes,» Charles thinks, and he says it out loud, too, just to make it that much clearer: "Yes. Would you put it on me?"

Erik glances down the bed, at Charles, where he's still straddling Erik's thighs, at the two of them with their clothes in disarray. «I used to imagine I'd be kneeling at your feet when I did that...»

It's a good thing Charles isn't actually standing; that idea leaves him weak at the knees. But he recovers quickly, shifting to climb off Erik, and there's really no reason to still be wearing unbuttoned trousers, or dress socks, or anything at all, not anymore. He strips down to bare skin and stands at the side of the bed, offering a hand to Erik. «Then let's fulfill one more dream tonight.»

"Oh, _God_ , yes," Erik breathes, and he slides out of bed, kneeling down at Charles's feet-- _kneeling down_ at Charles's _feet_ , Charles has to reach out and steady himself on Erik's shoulder, seeing that. Erik's still almost fully dressed, shirt and trousers, only a few shirt buttons undone, and Charles is naked now, and it feels right somehow. "Please, Charles, may I put my windcatcher on you, please?"

It's fluttering in Charles's hand now, the rings vibrating against his palm and his fingers. "Yes," Charles opens his hand and nods down at Erik, and the windcatcher lifts itself up, the chain unclasping, fitting itself easily around Charles's neck where Erik clasps it and lets it rest. Charles reaches up and covers it with his hand, so moved-- the warmth in Erik's eyes and the love flowing through the bond are unbelievable.

«You carried this, all these years, for me...»

Erik's eyes are shining now. «Yes. It was always yours. I never imagined I could actually--» A tear rolls down his cheek, and the sight tugs at Charles's chest. «--never thought I'd be able to give it to you, God, come here--»

He scrambles up to his feet and catches Charles's shoulders in his hands, drawing him close and kissing him hard. Charles catches just the whispers of his thoughts: _you're real_ and _you're alive_ , the sense-memory of what it felt like to be in bed with Charles, to have Charles on top of him. If this moment hadn't been building for months, it would be all too easy to think it was a dream. «I love you, Charles. I _love_ you...»

Charles winds his arms around Erik, holds on while they kiss as deep as drowning. «I never thought I'd hear you this way.»

«I thought of you, over and over, after September.» It isn't a bittersweet thought, now; it's sweetness only, love bursting through the bond. «I thought about your voice, how it felt to _finally_ hear you in my head, how much I needed to hear you again... and now I can, I do, you're here, you can hear me, you're _here_...»

«I thought that was the last thing you'd want from me.» Charles reaches up now, unbuttons Erik's shirt quickly and pushes it off his shoulders, draws Erik's undershirt out from his trousers and stands on tiptoe to get it off, over Erik's head and whipped off over his arms. Erik pulls his socks off, somehow managing to seem graceful even then, and when Charles unbuckles his belt and shoves his trousers and boxer-briefs down in one, Erik bends over at the waist to get them the rest of the way off, finally stepping out of them.

And at that, it's just the two of them, nothing at all between them, nothing hidden. The windcatcher is a warm circle of metal against Charles's chest, the only thing either of them are wearing. Charles can see the echo of the teenage boy from Jason's illusion in Erik now, his deceptively slim frame sculpted with muscle, his shoulders and arms strong. He didn't need that corset vest to give him a narrow waist and a classic silhouette. He doesn't need anything, no ornament or embellishment could improve on the way he looks now.

«I want to make you feel exactly how you want to feel,» Charles sends, determined. «I want you to have everything you need from me tonight.»

Erik starts to reach out for Charles's bare hip, but stops himself. That won't do at all; Charles takes Erik's hand and presses it against his hip, feeling the warmth of Erik's palm and sighing softly. 

«I want that for both of us,» Erik sends, finally.

Charles eases Erik back down to the bed, sitting him down and sliding onto the mattress beside him. He leans in and puts his teeth on the bend of Erik's neck, gentle for now, but when Erik gasps and tilts his head back-- showing throat _again_. How is Charles meant to do anything but push him onto the bed and rut against him-- frottage is much too sedate a word for what Charles wants right now. He digs his teeth in harder.

«You wanted me to hurt you,» Charles recalls. He licks over the spot he's been biting, then bites down again, harder still, intoxicated by the swell of desire and pleasure he's getting from Erik. «You were thinking of metal cuffs...»

Erik turns to face him, his hands moving to Charles's shoulders. «I want that, I want you--» But he takes a breath, the haze of arousal lifting for a brief moment in the middle of all this need. «We're just starting, we don't have to do everything tonight. It's not going to be our only chance.»

Charles can actually laugh at that now. He's wearing Erik's windcatcher; he's surrounded by Erik's love. «Far from it.» He leans in and licks up the slender length of Erik's neck, all the same, making Erik moan and shudder. «Your hands on me, my mouth on you... I'd be happy if we only kissed all night.» It's true: he'd be frustrated, but happy. «I just want to be close to you now.»

«Yes...» Erik's hands tighten on Charles's shoulders, pulling him further onto the bed. Charles doesn't need any coaxing; he follows Erik and stares down at him, sweeping his eyes over every inch of Erik's body. "I can't get over it," Charles breathes, reaching out and trailing his fingers down Erik's long, tapered waist. It's a tease for himself as much as for Erik; he wants his hand on Erik's cock, wants his mouth on it. "Every little thing about you, Erik... or... not so little..."

For a moment, Erik smiles, but then he levers himself up on his elbow, his emotions fading into a momentary snarl... anger, sadness. "Almost everything. I told you before-- I don't know if you remember." With his other hand, he covers Charles's, and he draws it back, around, and up, to a patch of skin at his lower back that feels rough, ridged somehow.

In an instant, Charles sobers. He knows those marks, now-- _he left eight scars on me before he died, do you want to count them_ \-- and he swallows, nodding. "I remember."

He slides his hand back further still to cover the marks with his palm, warming it, holding Erik here the same way he's been touching Erik at soul's-home. This time, when he kisses Erik, it's slow. «All the ways he tried to separate us, and here we are, together.»

Erik wraps his arms around Charles's neck, opening up to that kiss. Charles can feel the conflict in him: sadness and relief, regret and guilt and through all of that, love. «I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything I let him do. I should never have...»

«None of that was your fault,» Charles sends back, eyes shutting hard. «None of it.» He draws his other arm around Erik's shoulders, holding him, easing them both to lie down. He's careful not to climb atop Erik, cautious that he's offering up love, _acceptance_ , not trying to wipe out all those years with _that rotting bastard_ Shaw by making a clumsy, possessive claim. «I love you.» There's no way to express it _enough;_ no way to hear it enough either, even feeling it directly through the bond.

Erik holds onto Charles tightly. «I love you, too. I always have.»

It's Erik who turns his head, seeks out Charles's mouth for another kiss. When Charles gives it to him, it's Erik, again, who deepens it, his hands coming up to stroke down Charles's arms, move down his side. The windcatcher around Charles's neck spins around and around, and when Erik draws back, he reaches out to stroke it with one fingertip.

"I never thought I'd see this on you," he whispers. He looks up again, and wraps an arm around Charles's shoulders, holding on tightly. "I want you. Do we have to stop...?"

"God, no, we don't have to stop," Charles says. He takes a deep breath; they can go slowly, they can take their time... they _have_ time. He runs his hand up and down Erik's body, finally curving his fingers over Erik's shoulder and squeezing. «Will you lie back and let me touch you?»

Erik lets out a shaking breath, but nods. «Put me anywhere you want me.»

It's a moving offer, but rather than being sent into a possessive frenzy, Charles has never felt as protective and tender about anyone in his life as he feels about Erik right now. He eases Erik back against the pillows and moves over to settle on top of him, bare skin against bare skin-- he can't stifle his own soft moan at that. «I want you everywhere, every way. But like you said, we're only just beginning. This seems a good place to start.»

Erik leans up and presses his face against the curve of Charles's neck, breathing in deeply. Charles can feel his windcatcher tugging gently at his neck, as if Erik's reminding himself it's there. «Please...»

Charles kisses Erik's hair, presses him down again so he can kiss Erik's cheek, his jawline, bite his lower lip gently when he moves down to Erik's mouth. «Please...? Anything.»

Underneath him, Erik shudders, and spreads his legs, drawing his knees up to cradle Charles's hips. Charles can feel all that slender muscle flexing, holding him in place; it's so good it nearly has his eyes crossing. «Please,» Erik sends. «Please, Charles... I want you.»

Charles slips his hand down between them to grip Erik, and feels him straining at Charles's touch. His bondmate, _finally_ , his, here and hard and beautiful... no wonder Charles can't help groaning, just a little, at the feel of Erik's cock in his hand. «How?»

Desperation flows through the bond, and Erik clutches at Charles's shoulders, legs spreading wider, rocking his hips up and driving his cock into Charles's fist. «Now. Anything!»

Erik's intensity is beautiful to see and hear and feel-- not least because Charles has felt his arousal and satisfaction morning after morning, when Erik was still in Pittsburgh, and it was never like this. He stifles the urge to growl again, but he feels a flare of possessiveness all the same, and he's damned if he's going to let Erik out of this bed before everyone else is driven from his mind.

He slides down Erik's body and bites his inner thighs, earning broken gasps and shudders and a hot flow of arousal through the bond. «There's no one else,» he sends. «Not anymore. Just me and you. You're mine, tell me again.»

Erik gasps again, reaching down and slipping his hands into Charles's hair. He doesn't try to tug, isn't trying to move Charles's mouth anywhere; he's just touching, _connecting_. «I'm yours, it's you, it's only ever been you. Please!»

 _Only me,_ Charles thinks, satisfied on a gut-deep level, ready to make sure it's only the two of them from now on. He circles his fingers firmly around the base of Erik's cock, and when Erik flings out another desperate «Please,» Charles opens his mouth around him and sinks down onto his cock-- and down, and down. It's a challenge, taking in all of Erik-- it's not as though Charles hadn't noticed, but _God!_ It's utterly satisfying to have Erik this way, to have this much of him, filling Charles's mouth, down his throat, tasting of skin and sweat.

Erik's whole body curls forward for a moment, and he moans, falling onto his back again, his breath hitching. It's a perfect match, Charles wanting to take Erik this way, take control and please his bondmate and utterly overwhelm him with it, Erik just offering himself up, their bond pulsing with Erik's need to give himself to Charles. 

Charles has had his moments-- as a dominant he can hardly help the occasional possessive feeling-- but he's never felt anything like this for someone before, the urge to take everything Erik offers, take more and more of him until Erik's his, only his, until Erik belongs to Charles and Charles alone.

All he can send Erik is that sensation of _want_ ; he can't even form it into words now, not with Erik's taste filling his mouth, his hands on Erik's hips now, pinning him down. 

Erik meets that feeling note-for-note, his mind tangled up in Charles's, his instinctive sense for projection carrying not just words now-- «please, yes, all of me-- have me--» but more than that, a memory, dusty with age, the sense of a door creaking as Erik opens up and tries to share...

Charles gets glimpses, feels it the way Erik felt it when they were younger: a bed, neatly made, Erik kneeling up in the center of it, an awareness of the door, the steel hinges and brass doorknob solidly held so no one can get in. Erik's arousal, flowing through their bond-- _their bond_ , warm and whole-- and Erik kneeling and touching himself, thinking of his soulmate, of _him_ , of _Charles_ , that arousal flowing hotter and hotter...

«Yes, that's it, that's beautiful, Erik...» Charles moves, draws his mouth up to the head of Erik's cock, wraps his fingers around the base of his shaft and sucks hard. Erik gasps, his hands tightening in Charles's hair for just a moment before he makes himself relax. «Show me more...?»

Erik's mind flutters past an apartment, something recent-- his own, then, in Pittsburgh, touching himself with both hands and remembering the way it felt to have those hands on Charles... desire and need, so many feelings tangled together, the hope that it isn't over, that someday they'll see each other again.

It fades, then; maybe Erik's lost focus to send, maybe Charles is out of practice listening to thoughts this way, maybe it's the medication, but it doesn't matter. All those things Erik wanted, all the times he hoped for more-- tonight is all their second chances, Charles won't let anything keep them apart, not ever again. 

He puts his hand over one of Erik's and drags it back to his joining spot. «Hold me here, keep thinking of that. All those times. I remember. I loved you--» He has to draw his mouth off Erik and rest his face against Erik's thigh; a sudden wash of sorrow comes over him, and he takes in a shuddered breath. «You have to understand, I was so stupid and so selfish but I loved you _so much_.»

Thoughts tumbling over each other, Erik sends out, «I love you, I forgive you, it doesn't matter now--» He tightens his grip on Charles's joining spot, leaving Charles wrung out with need and panting against Erik's thigh. «Be with me now.»

«I'm with you. You're everything.» It's wholly true; it's one of the very few times in his life all his attention's been entirely taken up with one thing. _Erik._ He doesn't even have to shield right now; there are people nearby in the hotel, the floor below them, the suite beside this one, and though their mental voices are fainter with Psychitrex in Charles's system, it wouldn't matter in the least if they weren't. All those other thoughts and voices just don't matter. He's focused entirely on Erik.

He holds his other hand over Erik's at the back of his head and throws himself wholly into sucking him, drawing it out, using every advantage the bond and telepathy are giving him. He tightens his fingers to hold Erik back, slowing down just enough to back him off a bit; he pulls off to mouth Erik's balls and nip at his thighs, and almost before Erik can fully register those sensations, Charles is going back to it, sucking him, dragging ragged breaths and pleas from Erik, making absolutely sure Erik knows whose he is, who loves him. 

Moment by moment, Erik sinks into those feelings, his hand clutching and caressing Charles's joining spot. He reaches up with his other hand, touches his own, and it lights them up together, makes them _one_ as thoroughly as anything ever could. Charles can feel Erik's need to bend, the way he's trying to give himself over, how quickly he's slipping down into a place where this room and Charles are all that matter, and it's beautiful, it's perfect-- Charles couldn't possibly want anything more.

Or maybe he could, because when Erik sings out «I love you» into Charles's mind, _that_ completes the moment, brings Charles so much joy he almost can't believe it's all happening. 

«I love you so much,» Erik thinks. «I'm yours. I'm only yours, always... please... _please_!»

At that, Charles stops holding Erik back. «I love you-- give me this, too. Come for me.»

A flicker of nervousness comes and goes so fast Charles wonders if he misread it; instead, he feels overwhelming arousal and urgency, Erik's mind opening enough to show a sliver of vulnerability, something so guarded it's hard to get a sense of it. 

But Erik opens his mouth on a breath, and rocks up hard into Charles's mouth, and suddenly he's calling out, "Please, _please_ , oh God, please, Charles, please, _please_ ," begging with his body and his breath, and the bedrails shake-- it's not just that, it's all the metal nearby. The lamps on the bedside tables bend and twist, then draw up tense and straight; Charles's windcatcher vibrates hard against his chest.

Erik comes, his fingers gripping so hard at soul's-home-- _God_ \-- Charles can feel every bit of that pleasure, through his mind where Erik's open to him, through the bond where it puts all those damned mornings in Pittsburgh to shame. He's nearly choking on Erik's come, but that's perfect, too, his breath coming in short little bursts that leave him lightheaded in all the ways he loves. His joining spot is nearly glowing; he's so close instantly that he can only get his hand down beneath him, barely needing two short strokes before he's gone-- he'd cup his hand over his cock to save the linens, but there's no hope for that, he's coming so hard it's a lost cause.

There are no words for this; Charles doesn't even try to find them. He lets Erik feel what he's feeling, shares his fulfillment and happiness directly, and Erik's cock pulses again in Charles's mouth... but he's done for, totally spent, and finally he collapses on the bed with both palms facing up. Charles catches a wisp of a word from Erik-- «...love...»-- but even that seems hazy around the edges now.

No need to hurry. He keeps his mouth on Erik for a little while, letting Erik's sensitivity wear down, feeling him grow soft again, and when he finally lets Erik's cock slip from his mouth, he props himself up on his elbow, leaning to drop kisses on Erik's exposed wrists. «Mine,» he sends, all tenderness and contentment.

«Yours,» Erik sends back, eyes closing. His fingers twitch a bit; maybe he's ticklish. Charles can't wait to find out. 

He pauses briefly to reach over the side of the mattress and wipe his messy hand on his discarded boxers-- ah, the parts of seeker rush that never seem to make it into the stories-- but he can't be bothered to move more than an inch or two from Erik's side. Soon enough he's climbing up the bed, settling down against his soulmate. He nuzzles Erik's neck and strokes a hand down Erik's chest, just admiring him.

Erik rolls onto his side, facing Charles; he slips an arm around Charles's waist, and his eyes slide close again, his face relaxed in a smile. «Mine.»

«Completely. In my fondest hopes for tonight...» Charles can't help himself, he just has to keep touching Erik, petting his hair, tracing his shoulders, his arms, all those long, defined muscles. «Well, I did hope for this, but I didn't imagine I was being at all realistic.»

«Anything you want,» Erik thinks, nodding. «Anything at all. I'm yours.»

Erik has freckles on his shoulders and his arms... not as many as Charles does or as obvious, but enough to make Charles smile and run his fingertips over them. He's never much liked his own, but they look better on Erik, somehow. If he started kissing them now, one at a time, he might be closing in on the end of them by, oh, New Year's.

"Are you expected anywhere tomorrow? Do you need to text anyone?"

It's a long time before Erik answers. His arm tightens around Charles's waist. «It doesn't matter.»

Charles kisses him lightly. Fondly. So fondly... every minute they're together, Charles feels more for him. "You've been staying with the Wyngardes, won't they want to hear from you? And you have a safe call to make, sometime."

Erik finally gets his eyes open, but he doesn't say anything for a while, all the same, just reaching out and touching Charles's windcatcher with a gentle fingertip. «I just want to stay here. With you.»

The gesture makes Charles smile. «I want that, as well.» Even now it's a relief to hear it, to feel it. Erik wants to stay.

But he doesn't have much time to be relieved; Erik's getting nervous for some reason, and this time it's more than just a momentary, passing sensation. «Tell me what you want. Anything. Please.»

Cupping Erik's face, Charles sends back, «I want to be with you. I want this. Us. This is everything to me, Erik.»

«Then I'm yours. For as long as you want me.» Erik closes his eyes, tucking his face down against Charles's hands. «Anything-- just tell me-- just tell me what to do--» There's no reason for this desperation, but it's there anyway, tightening Erik's chest, spiralling up and up, making him shake. «Just tell me what to do, I'd do anything, please--»

Charles wraps himself around Erik, careful now-- strain, regret, faultlines everywhere, he can feel Erik's heart twisting as he shivers in Charles's arms. He's never wanted to make someone feel safe so badly in his life. But he can't _make_ Erik feel that way; all he can do is hold onto him, give him space to let these emotions loose. 

He's seen sub drop; he includes it in his 101 curriculum every time. But it's different when it's his own soulmate. He never imagined feeling like this, like what he wants more than anything is to push the rest of the world away, make sure Erik knows that Charles can protect him, that there's nothing Charles wouldn't do for him.

The way Erik's clinging, Charles can only imagine he'll respond to touch above anything else; if he needs to be told what to do, Charles can guide him. «I want you to hold onto me.»

It helps. Erik curls up even closer to him, burying his face against Charles's shoulder. «I can't... I'm so sorry... I was never supposed to leave you, I can't, I'm sorry...»

Grief and regret soak through their bond, but this isn't like any of the other times Charles has felt distress from Erik. This time he's _here_.

«You never left me. You always carried this for me.» He holds Erik tight and cups his hand over the windcatcher. Erik held it for a decade, saving it for Charles. It means so much to Charles to wear it now; he shares that, as well, the depth of his love and devotion.

That helps, as well, but there's still pain, anger, guilt. Something in Charles resists saying it, when he doesn't believe there's anything to forgive, but Erik seems to need it; Charles tells him, «You're forgiven.»

Erik struggles for space as his emotions splinter in a dozen different directions. Charles lets him go, but Erik doesn't leave the circle of his arms, just moves back until he can look into Charles's eyes, breathe, look away again. Charles can feel anger sparking in Erik like a lit fuse, and he braces himself for that, too.

«This always fucking happens to me,» Erik seethes, brushing tears away impatiently. «God, I just want it to stop.»

It's a slap in the face, cold water thrown at him; Charles needs a moment to recover from hearing those thoughts. He can't bear to block Erik out, but his throat is tight, and his chest aches. "I'm here, Erik," he promises. "We can--" He swallows and forces the next words out, shaken-- "we can stop, it's all right."

Erik pulls himself out of Charles's arms, and Charles flinches, shoring himself up for the inevitable. Charles is an _idiot_ , he was even _warned_ about this, Jason said to work at Erik's pace, and what did Charles do? Took everything Erik put on offer and didn't even _think_ \--

"It's not your fault," Erik gets out, words scraped from a raw throat. He pushes himself up to sit, legs hanging over the side of the bed, face resting in his hands. "It's me. This is why I don't submit anymore. I get lost. I don't want to come up."

 _You've been getting up every morning,_ Charles thinks, but even as he thinks it he's ashamed-- besides, maybe whatever's been going on back in Pittsburgh is only basic. "We don't have to do anything with power exchange," Charles says softly, coming up to sit beside Erik. "We slipped there when it felt right in the moment, but now we know. I'm happy enough just to be _near_ you, Erik, let alone anything more than that."

"I used to be able to submit," Erik says, sitting up a little, still looking down at his hands. "To you. You're the only one I could ever..." He takes a breath. "And I was happy. I was so happy when it was us, when we were together... could you feel that?"

Erik looks over at him, and Charles can feel the strain in him as much as he can feel how important it is to have an answer. Fortunately, the answer's easy. "I felt it. I always wanted..."

"I always wanted you, too," Erik whispers.

Much as it makes Charles's heart leap to hear it, that isn't what Charles was going to say. _I always wanted to keep you safe,_ he thinks. "Erik... I'm so sorry, for--"

"Don't." Erik cuts him off, pushing to his feet. Charles immediately stands, as well-- if Erik's planning to leave, he's going to have to _tell_ Charles to stay behind. Three months apart because Charles misunderstood all that rage-- he isn't letting that happen again, not if he can help it.

But all Erik does is pace, prowling across the room, his anger infusing every step. "Erik," Charles tries again. "Whatever it is you need, whatever you want from--" he gestures between them, "this, _us_ \-- I want this. When you're ready. I can wait. Now, or a year from now, or ten years-- we have each other now. We don't have to hurry."

"This can't be what you wanted," Erik says, coming to a stop, fists balled at his sides. " _This._ A half-broken bond and a submissive who can't live up to half the promises we made when we were children--"

It would probably not be helpful to point out to Erik that looking at him now-- seeing all of Erik's lean physical grace, the pride in his posture, the intensity in his clenched fists and tense forearms-- isn't doing a single thing to persuade Charles that he could ever want anyone else half this much. It's double that, what's coming from the bond-- yes, there's frustration and anger, but with Erik looking at him, those aren't the foremost emotions in his mind. Charles feels regret, too. Longing. Under everything, love.

" _Erik_ ," Charles says, putting all his conviction into it. Erik startles upright, his posture shifting, his hands moving behind his back-- God, even as he says he has trouble with submission, his instincts are still there, trying to offer Charles all the things he's forgotten how to give freely. 

Charles walks up to him and curves his hands onto Erik's shoulders, holds him there and looks into Erik's eyes. "What happened to us was _not your fault_ ," he says, looking deeply into Erik's eyes while he says it, watching Erik's eyes widen and feeling relief and regret from the bond. "And you're the one I want, whatever your orientation." He slides a hand to Erik's joining spot, holding him there lightly-- though even a light touch is enough to make Erik's lips part and his breath quicken, and if Charles doesn't say what he means quickly, he might not be able to get it out at all. "This is the bond I want. Whatever we've been through, we're together now. We can heal."

Erik licks his lips, looking down at Charles, but he still manages to say, "And if we don't? If it doesn't come back, Charles. If this is all the bond we ever have. Then what?"

"Then I'll be grateful that I found you. And it's enough for me just to be with you."

For a few moments, Erik's expression doesn't change. Emotions spill through him-- worry, skepticism, disbelief, and a desperate need to hold on to Charles and never let him go.

Charles is never going to know where the strength to do this came from, but he knows this has to be Erik's choice. He takes his hand off Erik's joining spot and opens his arms, waiting.

"We have to take it slow," Erik says carefully, stepping forward. "It can't be everything at once. I need time."

"I'm here," Charles whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."

And Erik folds Charles up in his arms and sends, «I'm with you.»


	14. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (5/11)

The sheets aren't a total loss, even after all that; the bed's large enough that once Charles and Erik have gathered up the pillows at the head of the bed, there's enough room for them to sit together, curled up with each other, and still avoid the wet spots. 

Charles tucks himself into the curve of Erik's arm, and Erik rests his chin on the top of Charles's head. They fit. Charles's hair is thick and silky and smells nice, some woody, spicy masculine scent that must come from cologne or hairspray or shampoo. It's appealing, but Erik finds himself fantasizing about showering off all the personal care products and working up a sweat again, finding out what Charles smells like unadorned, letting Charles mark him-- Erik barely catches himself before the idea makes him start to sink into headspace again.

Erik combs his fingers through Charles's hair, trying to root himself back in the here and now, his touch drifting irresistibly back toward soul's-home.

"Can you feel me?" Charles murmurs. His low voice feels as if it resonates in Erik's every cell.

"I still can't," Erik admits. "I thought, after this, maybe..." But he has to shake his head. "I wish I could."

He can feel Charles smile against his chest. He wonders if it's a wistful smile, a pained smile, or just happy-- happy that they're here together, despite everything. He draws back a little to see, but when Charles tilts his head up to meet his eyes, it's a different smile entirely: warm and fond and content. Erik has been drawn to men who look like Charles for years, but he's never seen anyone like him. No wonder it was never right, with all those details no one else could ever match: the point of his chin and the arch of his eyebrows, light freckles everywhere and two more emphatic freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, the depthless blue of his eyes.

"I'll just have to tell you how I feel," Charles says. "I'm so happy you're here." Erik leans down and kisses him, and Charles presses up into that kiss, one hand on Erik's shoulder, the other reaching for his joining spot as he turns and straddles Erik's lap.

«Careful,» Erik manages, though his actions are anything but; he's got both hands in Charles's hair and he's kissing him, licking into his mouth, biting gently at his lower lip. Charles grinds down against him, and Erik gasps, thrusting up, a little clumsy. The desperate arousal he's felt since they left the museum hasn't faded at all, even after that spectacular first time. As soon as Charles's ass rubs against Erik's bare cock, Erik's ready to be inside him, to _claim_ him, more than a little shocked by his own desire.

«I want that too,» Charles thinks, giving Erik one hot openmouthed kiss after another. «Can we, will you be all right if we do it this way...?»

With a great deal of effort, Erik eases Charles back. "Slow," he manages. "We can't just fall into seeker rush..."

Charles settles both his hands on Erik's chest and nods, biting his lip... but under the bite, his lips curve into a smile. "I didn't think I'd ever feel seeker rush," he admits. "But I could have you for the rest of our time in Boston and still not feel like I'd had enough. Is it like that for you?"

Erik reaches up and traces a finger down the length of the chain Charles's windcatcher is resting on, runs it in a circle around the rim of the windcatcher itself. "Our time in Boston," he repeats quietly. "I was going to go back to Pittsburgh after New Year's."

Once again, Charles's lower lip ends up caught between his teeth, but this time he isn't smiling. He nods at Erik, a few times, and says, "I was going back to New York." He raises his eyebrows. "And now...?"

It's hard to believe he can still talk, with Charles this close to him, sitting on his lap... already, Erik wants nothing more than to make love to him again, _be_ with him. He takes a deep breath, his thumb rubbing against Charles's windcatcher.

"I think we--" How does he even say it? Every instinct he's got is telling him to stay here, with Charles-- in Boston if they have to, just _don't let go_.

But after eight years, he has a life. And giving up that life to chase after his dominant... his stomach pitches, and he shakes his head. "I'm still going back to Pittsburgh," he says, shutting his eyes tightly. "I have to."

Charles's hands dig into his shoulders for a moment. "All right," Charles says quietly. "Erik... you don't owe me an explanation, that isn't what this is about, but may I ask..." Erik manages to get his eyes open; Charles's expression is tight with strain. "Who is it you've been seeing, in Pittsburgh?"

Erik blinks at him for a few seconds. "I'm not-- there hasn't been anyone, I told you that." Not entirely true; he sucks in a breath and squirms underneath Charles, gently taking hold of his hips and pressing him back. Charles takes the hint and comes off Erik's lap, sitting facing him. "There was one time, _once_ , before we met. I went to a club after Sebastian died, and it didn't end well. And then there was that night you were texting me, you were at a party..."

"I remember." Charles swallows. "I'm so sorry for that night, I was-- there's really no excuse--"

Erik tilts his head in confusion. "No excuse...?"

"One of a long series of mistakes, asking you for too much too soon," Charles says. "I suppose it won't help to say so, but I was more than a little drunk. For parts of it."

"I spent ten minutes kissing a dom I met while I was out with friends," Erik blurts out. Charles's eyes go round with surprise. Erik can feel his skin heating. "He was nice. Psionic," he adds. "I told him I couldn't do anything else, just kiss, so we did that. That was all."

"Psionic," Charles repeats. "Telepath?"

"He was on Psychitrex," Erik says quickly; it seems so important now to let Charles know that it wasn't that deep a connection, that he hasn't shared thoughts with anyone but him. "So-- it was all right--"

"All right?" Charles keeps repeating things; Erik couldn't feel more awkward now if he were trying. He tugs the sheet up over his lap; he's feeling so exposed, suddenly.

"It was ten minutes," Erik tries again. "And then I went home."

"With...?" When the question just meets with Erik's confusion, Charles elaborates, "If it wasn't the telepath... I remember that next morning, I woke up sticky." He grimaces. "And then I felt you... Erik, just tell me, _please_. It was every morning after that, who...?"

"No one," Erik insists, and then he realizes-- the next morning-- oh, God. He covers his face with one hand. "You think I've been having sex every morning...?"

Charles stares at him for several seconds, nonplussed. "I felt how it was for you on your own, before that, and it was so different after that night. It's fairly unmistakable," he says, though he sounds uncertain, now.

Which he should. "Charles, I have a--" Erik takes a deep breath, straightens, and says it flat-out. "I have an eleven-inch metal dildo. At home. Which I've been using. Often."

His face and ears are burning, and it doesn't help when Charles's eyes go wide and then he stutters out a huff of laughter, smiling. "Really?"

" _Yes_ , really, God, what's the matter with that-- I like being fucked, I like metal, it's gorgeous, it's--" Erik sets his jaw, presses his lips together. He'd thought he was being careful after that first morning, he did some reading on how to send things selectively through the bond and how to hold things back, but of course how could he know? He couldn't feel Charles, and after that first time, Charles never said anything. But he knew all along...

Then again, the expression on Charles's face has grown heated-- Erik realizes belatedly that the smile slid right off his face as soon as Erik said _I like being fucked_. "Metal toys. Of course," Charles says instead, licking his lips, and Erik doesn't feel at all as though he's being laughed at anymore. "That must be... Erik, I'm sorry, that was ridiculous of me, I was just so _jealous_..."

It's Erik's turn for wide eyes now; Charles shrugs, embarrassed. "I can honestly say I'd have enjoyed those mornings a great deal more if I'd realized it was just you." He bites his lip again. "I felt so guilty about listening in, but I couldn't help it. All those years I couldn't feel anything... even feeling you with what I _thought_ was someone else, I couldn't bear to tune you out..."

"It's just you," Erik says softly. "I just wanted you. Even Marvin--"

"Marvin?" Charles frowns.

"The telepath at the bar," Erik fills in, and Charles nods, though he's still frowning. "Even that... part of me just wanted to make sure I could draw limits and stick to them." Dryly, he adds, "Psionic dominants have always been a weakness of mine." And it's no different now. He's been half-hard through this whole conversation, embarrassing moments and all, and even now, if Charles put a hand on the back of his neck, if Charles told him _get down on your knees_...

Charles clasps his hands together, knuckles going a little white. "Ah."

"There's no one in Pittsburgh. There isn't going to be anyone." Erik reaches out, curving his hand against the side of Charles's neck; Charles closes his eyes and turns in toward that touch immediately, some of the tension coming out of his shoulders. "Even if I go back to Pittsburgh and you go back to New York," and there, he's said it, it's out there, "there won't be anyone else for me. I'll wait for you."

"There's been no one for me, either," Charles says, his voice low. He rubs against Erik's hand, catlike, kissing the pad of Erik's thumb. "Not since I felt the bond come back."

Erik stares at him. He tried not to think about it, but he always assumed Charles was scening regularly in New York. And after hearing about it from Jason and Kurt, he's been haunted by the thought of Charles dominating every sub who comments to him on Fetbook. "Not since September?"

Charles's eyes come open. "Not since June," he says. "I thought... if _this_ is the moment the bond comes back for you, whenever it happens, I don't want to be... with someone else."

"Oh," Erik says, breathless. So much for what Jason said about Charles's scening habits. Six months, and he's been waiting for Erik that whole time.

They haven't talked it all over, they haven't sorted through everything, but the idea that Charles has been waiting for him... Erik leans in, his mouth just a breath away from Charles's. «Maybe we should be making up for all that lost time.»

Charles clutches at Erik's shoulders, a soft noise coming from his throat. «You said we have to take it slow. We can do basic. I'm fine with basic.»

«I'll try,» Erik promises.

«We both will,» Charles answers, determined, but he chews his lip. "Just in case, though, what's your safeword?"

"I don't need a safeword," Erik frowns.

Releasing that grip, Charles massages Erik's shoulders instead. " _I_ need you to have a safeword. We'll do our best not to go there. And of course if you say to stop, I'll stop. But still, I want to know it."

" _Why?_ You're my--" Erik bites back on saying _dominant,_ that's not... it's not... "You're my soulmate." He can't imagine what Charles must be getting through the bond, the jangle of confusion Erik is feeling; he wonders if Charles can feel his physical turmoil as well, the pitch of his stomach when he wonders if he got something wrong, if he's done something to make Charles believe that Erik doesn't trust him.

Charles strokes down Erik's arms and rubs up and down his bare thighs, offering a smile when it distracts Erik a little from his consternation. "I am. And we're going to steer clear of power exchange, but it's still something we should know."

Erik looks at him searchingly. Charles saying that he's fine with basic... of course. Charles wants him to have a safeword for now, while they're taking Erik's orientation difficulties into account-- when he's comfortable submitting again, obviously they won't need that anymore. If he were with anyone else, he'd be relieved. It's just... Charles is his _soulmate_... "I just use 'red'."

"All right. I'll stop for that, and for 'stop' or 'no' or anything of the sort, yes? I use red and yellow myself, or 'safeword.'" Charles draws his mouth up in a puckered smirk, as if he's inviting Erik in on a joke. "And sometimes I use 'Queensberry' for demos… after Marquess of Queensberry rules."

The reference barely registers, Erik's so charmed by that expression, the shape of Charles's pursed lips and the brightness of his eyes. He has to kiss that mouth, thinking hopefully, «Then we're set?»

Hands flying up to cup Erik's face, Charles kisses him back as passionately as if they're touching for the first time. « _Yes._ »

Erik gladly loses himself in that kiss, feeling Charles wind his arms around him, drawing him close. Part of him feels like he's got training wheels on, what with having a safeword here in this bed with his soulmate; he feels a little guilty, coddled, but it was Charles's idea, Charles's orders. If establishing a safeword is what it takes to get close to Charles again, then that's what they'll do.

 _His_ soulmate. Charles hasn't even scened with anyone else since their bond came back. All this time, Charles has been his. No one else's, just his. Only his. «I love you...»

Moaning against Erik's mouth, Charles sends back, « _Yes_ \-- Erik-- I love you, too, I _love_ you, I want you--» He draws Erik closer, on top of him, spreading his legs and bending his knees up to cradle Erik's hips. «Do you want... or would you rather...?» One of his hands slips down Erik's back, tracing the curve of his spine, and then Erik throws his head back, groaning, as Charles's fingertips tease at the cleft of his ass.

«I'm not eleven inches or made of metal,» Charles sends, humor lacing the thought, «but I can fuck you, if you like.»

«Just tell me where you want me!» Erik sends back, scrambling up onto his hands so he can look down at Charles. Charles smiles at him, wide and sweet, and not for the first time, that smile takes Erik's breath away. «Anything you want, Charles, _please_.»

«I want to see you,» Charles says. «And you're here already...» His hands move down to Erik's thighs. «You could ride me, if you want.»

«I want,» Erik sends. He flings an arm out toward the nightstand, this seems like the sort of hotel that would have its nightstands stocked with lube and condoms, and the metal drawer pull is plenty for him to grab at. He yanks the drawer open and glances over, and sure enough, there are three small bottles of Bodyglide, stamped with the hotel's logo, and an unopened box of condoms.

Charles smirks as Erik fetches out a condom. «I suppose it's just as well it's me instead of you this first time, or we might have to call down to the front desk for bigger ones.» Erik clocks him with a look and shakes his head, laughing softly. «It _will_ be you, I hope... sometime, while we're here...?»

That's treading far too close to the question of how long they'll be here and where they're going after for Erik's taste. He cuts off the question by stroking his hand down Charles's body and then lifting his cock, handling him, gratified to feel Charles go solidly erect at his touch, even this soon after their first time. Charles is beautiful here too, foreskin furled back to expose the glossy head, his surprisingly coppery body hair trimmed, and his shaft feels perfect in Erik's hand. His abs tense and flex as Erik touches him, his hard rounded thighs tightening as Erik carefully rolls the condom on him.

«Right now I just want you,» Erik sends. «Just you. Is that all right?»

«Of course,» Charles answers, biting his lower lip again. No wonder his lips are so red, he's been biting them and licking them constantly since Erik's seen him, and he doubts that's all for his benefit. Though it certainly _is_ benefitting him; he's been watching Charles's mouth all night, and having it on his cock was mind-shattering.

He's almost perfunctory about lubing up, so impatient to have Charles's cock inside him, but when Charles lifts up onto his elbows to watch, Erik slows down a little, stroking his fingers in and out a bit. «Look at you,» Charles sends, reaching forward and putting a hand on Erik's hip. «You look so strong, Erik... you're amazing. I could watch you doing this for days.»

«I definitely couldn't wait for days!» Erik draws his fingers back and moves forward again, curling his fingers around Charles's cock. «I don't think I can wait _minutes_. I want you _now_.»

Charles draws in a breath and nods, rubbing his hands up and down Erik's thighs, and when Erik sinks down on him, he almost thinks he can feel their connection all the way up his spine and deep in soul's-home. Charles might not be eleven inches long or made of metal, but he's perfect-- all those gorgeous freckles spread all over his chest and shoulders, the flush working its way up his chest to his neck, the way he's looking at Erik as if no one else has ever meant this much to him...

«I love you,» Erik sends, moving now, thighs working as he lifts himself up, sinks down again on Charles's cock. «I've always loved you--»

«Erik--» Charles throws his head back, barely holding onto Erik's hips; Erik reaches forward with one hand, covers Charles's windcatcher with his palm. «I love you, too, Erik, you feel so good, I've _missed_ you--»

"You're _mine_ ," Erik growls down at him, and it's easier somehow than saying _I'm yours_ , doesn't leave him feeling needy, desperate, lost. It makes Charles's eyes fly open, looking at Erik all over again, and he puts his hand over Erik's, both of them covering Charles's windcatcher, Charles's heart. "Mine," Erik says again, moving faster now. "You're _mine_."

"I'm yours-- Erik, yes, I'm yours," Charles pants, "I'm here, I'm _yours_ \--" He plants his feet and shoves his hips up as Erik comes down on him, and they're moving together, hot and savage now, meeting each other need-for-need. It's never been like this, Erik's never known it _could_ be like this, like finding a part of himself by giving himself to Charles, finding so many things he'd thought were lost. «I want you so much, I don't ever want to stop, I love you, I'm yours,» the thoughts are spilling out of Charles, flowing into Erik like water, like breath. Every time he hears them, it's like recapturing what was taken from them.

He presses more firmly at Charles's chest, his other hand moving up to brace against Charles's shoulder. His own thoughts are blurring together, but he needs to share them, needs to give them to Charles: «I'm here-- I missed you-- you're _mine_ , I won't lose you again, I won't let you go, we're together now, you're _mine_ , Charles, you're _mine_ \--!»

Charles gasps, and his hand comes off Erik, his fingers pressed against his temple as his body strains underneath Erik's. He goes still, buried deep in Erik's body, and Erik stops moving, eyes going wide. "Is something wrong, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Charles answers, voice low and thick; he laughs softly, stretching a bit, tilting his head back. Erik can't stop staring-- if Charles were a sub, it'd be a classic case of showing throat, and even though he's not, it's hard to look away from the pale expanse of Charles's neck, the hollow at the base, the way his adam's apple is so pronounced with his throat arched, the beautifully defined divots just above his collarbones.

"Do I--" Erik takes another breath, trying to calm himself. "Do I need to stop?"

"No, _please_ don't stop," Charles moans, and he laughs again, closing his eyes and squirming underneath Erik. "I just needed to back myself off a bit, or this would have been over _much_ too soon."

Back himself off... oh, with his ability. Erik reaches up and strokes Charles's temple. "That's handy," he murmurs; Charles covers Erik's hand with his and sighs, turning his face into Erik's touch. "You're incredible," Erik whispers. "I don't want it to be over too soon, either."

"Just keep going," Charles breathes. "I'm here. I'm all yours, Erik."

"Mine," Erik agrees hoarsely, and he starts again, slower this time, intent on making it last; Charles rocks up into him, each thrust jolting him with pleasure that feels too good to be real and keeps happening over and over again. He wants to feel this forever, just as much as he wants to come-- both desires warring as they gradually move a little faster together, a little rougher.

The feel of Charles inside him, hot and unyielding, filling him over and over, has Erik groaning again, his own head thrown back-- he has to stop that, can't show throat now, he's already gotten lost once tonight. He's not going to make Charles drag him off the floor. _Mine_ , he thinks-- and then thinks it at Charles, «mine, I want to come for you, _on_ you, can I do that, can I mark you...?»

«Yes!» Charles's voice is a pure note in his mind, the _yes_ ringing through him, echoing inside him. Erik reaches down, but Charles gets there first, his hand on Erik's cock, touching him perfectly, expertly-- maybe it's telepathy or the bond or just his own instinct, but he knows what to do, how to make Erik come apart for him. Erik barely manages to hold on, not even sure what he's waiting for, but when Charles thinks, « _Now_ , Erik,» Erik comes for him in a rush, gasping as he slams himself down on Charles's cock, his come streaking Charles's stomach and chest.

Inside him, Charles is jerking, too, his cock pulsing hard in Erik's ass, and it's just like everything he's fantasized about these past six months, Erik's orgasm driving Charles over, so good they're both breathless and panting in unison, clutching at each other, shaking and wrung out.

«I love you.» Charles smiles so brightly at Erik that Erik can only stare at him, try to memorize that expression, the color in his face, the light in his eyes, a look of perfect satisfaction.

«I love you, too,» Erik thinks. It's a struggle now to stay up, to keep from crashing to the floor to beg Charles for anything, for everything, to love him, forgive him, _keep_ him. He lowers himself down onto Charles's chest, heedless of the mess he left-- if they stick together, so be it. 

Charles wipes his hand off on the sheets-- all right, they may very well wreck them by the time all's said and done tonight-- and reaches up to cup the back of Erik's neck in his hand. Erik squirms lightly against that grip, trying to get it higher, and Charles immediately moves his hand to soul's-home, holding Erik there.

Erik has a life in Pittsburgh, one he's been working hard to build these past six months. But with Charles's hand on him there, Charles's body warm beneath his, it's hard to imagine wanting anything else as badly as he wants this.

\---

"I really do have to make that safe call," Erik groans, finally pulling himself out of Charles's arms. "Magda's going to be wondering if I've crashed and burned."

Charles spoons behind him, lips grazing along the crest of his shoulder, his body warm against Erik's back. It's enough to make Erik think twice-- or rather, stop thinking-- but Charles gently butts his head against him, urging him on. "You're right. It's important. It'll only take a moment."

It is important, and it really will only be a moment... it's still incredibly difficult to pull himself away, even though he leaves Charles with a soft kiss before he goes. He steps into the reading room in order to make the call, and within a few moments, he has Magda on the line, codewords exchanged and check-in handled.

"Everything going okay?" she asks, for the third time this phone call. "I mean, I understand that he's The Guy," and she even manages to keep her tone light when she says it. "But if you have any trouble... you can call me, or Rick said to call him-- he says he'll just come get you, no questions asked, he won't even tell Pat, so she won't come charging in like the cavalry."

Erik takes a breath and says, "I'll be all right here. If you're still there, can you tell them I won't be... I'm staying here tonight."

Magda lets out a low whistle. "Acknowledging already?"

It hurts to say it, but he murmurs, "No. But I can't leave him."

"Okay." Of all the people he knows, Magda-- unbonded, no other half, no soulmate to search for and find-- may be the only person who wouldn't say, _I understand._ It makes it easier than he thought it would, being honest. "Call me in the morning?"

"I will," he promises.

"Good luck tonight."

"Thank you."

A quick exchange of farewells, and Erik turns back to the doorway, opening the French doors and taking in Charles from across the room. He's on his cellphone, stretched out on the bed, still naked and obviously comfortable in his skin. Erik pauses, arrested, just looking at him, his tight build, strong shoulders... even his bare feet are attractive. When Erik meets his eyes, he finds Charles watching him right back, another one of those spectacular smiles breaking open. He must be on his own safe call, though at the moment he's just responding with "Mm-hm"s, and then a low dirty chuckle that seems to promise all kinds of things-- things Erik's probably not ready to share with him yet, as much as it galls him to admit it.

Although the longer he looks at Charles, the more he wonders if he could just _be_ ready if he tried again. And again. And... he climbs back onto the bed, crawling up between Charles's legs. Charles's attention is immediately riveted, and he says, "Fruit bat, Armando, I'll call you in the morning," and hastily hangs up.

"Fruit bat?" Erik repeats, pressing his lips to the point of Charles's left hip. He puts a hand on Charles's thigh, squeezing-- Charles flexes the muscle a bit in Erik's grip, which makes Erik instinctively press down, pinning Charles's leg flat on the bed. Charles squirms under him, reaching down to stroke Erik's hair, drawing his fingertips from Erik's forehead all the way up and over, down to his nape.

The instant Charles grips him at soul's-home, Erik comes scrambling up the bed, cradling Charles's face in his hands as he kisses Charles deeply. Charles brings his knees up, wedges Erik between them, and his grip is so tight at soul's-home that Erik loses all ability to think. But who needs to _think_ , he's in his soulmate's arms, he's finally with the man he was meant to give himself to all along...

... _give himself to_ , he has to stop, he has to come up, he can't skid into headspace _again_. He wrenches his mouth away from Charles's, not easily. "Charles," Erik gasps out. And what he means to say is, _I need time_ , but what actually comes out is, "I need you."

"I need you, too," Charles says, breathless and tender. "I'm here, Erik. I love you. I'm _here_."

"Then let's not waste time," Erik tells him, moving his hand around to the back of Charles's neck, and up. When he puts his hand on Charles's joining spot, they both groan-- from here, it really is almost as though he can feel Charles, their need echoing off one another and amplifying into something Erik's never even imagined he could experience.

He should know better-- _does_ know better, his better instincts are telling him not to lose himself in this, but those better instincts are fighting eight years of missing this man-- this one perfect man, the one who was meant for Erik from the beginning-- and the surge of lust and connection that comes when soulmates first meet. Erik's heard of seeker rush, of course, but he never imagined it could be this all-consuming. He wants everything, and he wants it all now...

_It can't be everything at once. You said that yourself. Remember?_

He shakes himself a little and eases back off Charles's body, holding himself suspended, arms straight. Charles gives an admiring look to Erik's arms and shoulders, moving his hands up and down, following the contours of Erik's muscles with his palms. "Look at you," Charles murmurs. «I've never even _dreamed_ of someone as perfect as you...»

With Charles's hand off soul's-home, Erik can actually put two or three thoughts together in a row. He takes a deep breath. "I'm not," he says. "I'm not perfect."

Charles sobers immediately, reaching up to cup Erik's face in his hand. "You're perfect to me. But I understand," he says. "What can I do to help you?"

"You said you were fine with basic. Did you mean it?"

"Of course I did." Charles smiles up at him, exuding calm and confidence. Erik nods and bends his head down, and this time he doesn't seek out a kiss or wait for Charles to give it to him: he _takes_ it, Charles moaning underneath him and folding Erik up in his arms.

«You're magnificent. I can't believe you're _mine_ ,» Charles thinks, and Erik growls down at him, pressing his hips against Charles's as the answering urge to say _I'm yours_ wells up. It's true-- he's never been so sure he belonged to anyone in his life-- but if he starts with _I'm yours_ now, it's going to be _take me_ and _please_ in another five minutes, and he can't start slipping into headspace already, he _can't_.

«Mine,» Erik thinks back, instead, and that helps. «Do you want to... _I_ want...» He groans, softly, and kisses Charles again. «I feel so _greedy_ , but do you want to fuck me again...?»

Under Erik's lips, Charles laughs, and Erik pulls back to look at him. "Darling," Charles says softly, stroking his hand down Erik's face. «There's nothing else in the world I want more, right now. In one position or another.» He gives Erik a grin that Erik can only describe as cheeky, and Erik smiles back at him. «Did you have something in mind?»

«Everything. I had _everything_ in mind,» Erik says, kissing Charles again. He tries to send an image this time, though: Erik on all fours, Charles behind him, but no bondage, nothing more than basic-- just the two of them, moving together, Charles driving into Erik again and again...

«Yes, God, that, up, let me up, up, up,» Charles thinks, frantic already, pushing at Erik's shoulders to get him turned over. Erik scrambles off Charles and waits for Charles to get a condom from the nightstand-- only twelve in that box, they're going to have to order more from the front desk, neither one of them was planning ahead at all-- but Erik's still slick from earlier, hasn't had a chance to take a thorough shower yet.

He settles in on all fours, his cock already hard enough to ache-- and there's no reason not to touch himself, so he leans down on his forearm, balancing himself as he reaches to his cock and strokes himself a few times, giving himself a little bit of relief. Charles's rough exhalation is enough for Erik to guess that he's watching, and he likes what he sees.

 _Stay up,_ Erik reminds himself. He pushes back up and half-turns, looking back at Charles. "Well?"

Charles moves forward on his knees-- on his _knees_ , it's most likely just for expediency, but it still jogs oddly through Erik's mind, as if it's backwards, _he_ should be the one crawling on his knees, but no, fuck, _stop that_ \-- and sweeps a hand over Erik's back, from his shoulder to the upper curve of his ass. He drags that touch back up to Erik's joining spot and squeezes, a little rough, before craning to kiss him again, biting at Erik's lower lip. 

It feels so good Erik moans aloud and feels his knees going weak, but it's all right, it doesn't matter now, he's not going to be kneeling up like this for much longer... he blinks at Charles a few times when Charles looks up at him with a smile, and when Charles slides that hand all the way down from soul's-home to Erik's ass, and squeezes, Erik lets out a relieved laugh.

"Any way you want it," Charles promises. "Get into position, however's most comfortable for you."

"You could order me to stand on my head and I'd probably find it comfortable tonight," Erik teases, but... _is_ he teasing? He's not sure. Orders... he'd do anything Charles asked, he knows that much, but...

Charles's expression softens, and he reaches out for Erik's hands. "I'm sorry, that was careless of me," he says. "I didn't intend to make it sound like an order. I'm just impatient, too."

"I understand." Erik breathes a little more easily anyway. "I want this so much-- let me just--" He breaks away, difficult as that is, and goes back to all fours, stretching a little and then settling in. Once he's comfortable, he turns his head to look at Charles. "Is this all right?"

"That's so much better than 'all right'," Charles says, a little starry-eyed himself now, and with that, he fumbles with the condom packet until he gets it open and the damn thing unrolled onto his cock, and he wastes no time at all after that; he gets behind Erik and draws his hands down Erik's ass cheeks, slipping his thumbs into Erik's cleft and holding him open.

Erik can only groan; he angles his hips back a little more, wanting, _needing_ Charles in him, and Charles answers with a growl of his own. "If you weren't covered in lube from before, I'd want to lick you until you--" Erik can hear it, Charles doesn't have to say it out loud: _begged_. Charles makes a soft, frustrated sound. "Until you'd had enough," he finishes instead, "til you were ready for me to fuck you," and that sounds better and better, Erik's chest easing, tension sliding away. "As it is-- I'll do that later," Charles promises, and then he's there, fitting himself to Erik's body, pushing in inch by slow, gorgeous inch.

There's no way Erik's going to stay passive, not in this position; he straightens his arms and shoves back, not waiting for Charles to set the pace. Charles gasps, hands flying to Erik's hips, and tugs him back, hard. "Yes," he gasps, "Erik, show me how you like it, I want to know how you like it," and this once Erik doesn't take it as an order-- he's just hearing Charles's need and urgency, and he's going to give Charles what he's asking for, show him what Erik's been dreaming of all these years they've been apart.

He's quick, sparing himself nothing; he fucks himself hard on Charles's cock, driving Charles deeply into him again and again, dragging moans and grunts and desperate little sounds from Charles's throat. «Like this,» Erik thinks, «I want it like this, _harder_ , I want bruises on my hips from where you're holding me--»

"Oh, God, oh _God_ ," Charles pants out, but his hands tighten on Erik's hips now, his fingertips digging in deep enough to mark him. «I want that too, I want you so much, my bruises on you, no one else, _tell me_ , tell me again--»

«You, it's just you, it's always been you, I was thinking of you all those times in Pittsburgh, it was just me, I was fucking myself like this and wishing it was _you_ \--»

One of Charles's hands comes off Erik's hip, but he doesn't stop, doesn't even lose his rhythm. Erik looks back over his shoulder to see Charles's hand up at his temple-- and, oh, God, he's beautiful, eyes shut tight, teeth sunk deeply into that lush lower lip, body tense with the strain of holding back, his hair mussed and damp with sweat-- Erik did that to him, _Erik's_ doing that, _God_.

He braces himself harder and goes at it with all the passion that's been building for him for months now. It's been three and a half months since he first saw Charles in the crowd-- three and a half months since he had a face and a body and a voice and _thoughts_ to put together with his memories of the dom he loved when he was a boy.

That dom is right here, behind him, fucking Erik just as hard as Erik's always needed, and Erik grips the sheets in both fists as the bedrails start to clatter. He could do _anything_ now, he could lift the bed, he could lift a fucking _car_ , he feels something sparking at soul's-home-- «you, is that you, please, I want it to be you--»

Charles lets out a sharp noise and reaches forward, his hand coming down on soul's-home. «I'm right here,» he promises, his thoughts projected through a rich haze of lust. «I'm yours, you're mine, do you feel me now? Please, now, I want that, too...»

Erik gets one of his hands off the bed so he can cover Charles's with it. He presses Charles's hand tightly against soul's-home, still fucking back against him, and he wants to feel what Charles feels _so badly_ \-- he can almost sense Charles, it's almost the two of them in his head, not just him, _almost_...

Charles squeezes him one more time at soul's-home, and Erik jerks back against him, the pleasure's too much, he can't hold back anymore, he _can't_. He stops struggling for that connection with Charles at the soul and focuses on the connection they have with their bodies, and it's so sudden, it's like the orgasm's being wrenched out of him, making him throw his head back and cry out with it.

He hears Charles behind him, the same sound at the same time, Charles coming with him despite any efforts he might have been making to hold back. It's everything Erik wanted, and when Charles collapses against him, Erik does, too, gasping as Charles slides out of him and they both go tumbling down to the mattress, together.

Charles crawls up the bed and pulls Erik against him, spooning in behind him, and Erik closes his eyes, breathing slow and deep. He's here with Charles, he's not losing himself to this, not completely... not _yet_... he's going to be all right. Maybe they're both going to be all right after all, maybe they can _have_ this.

«I love you,» Charles sends, his forehead pressed against Erik's joining spot. «So much, Erik.»

«I love you, too,» Erik sends back, and they stay like that for a while, awake, sated, holding each other.


	15. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (6/11)

As much as Charles would like to spend the rest of the night just lying in bed, holding Erik... falling asleep with Erik... waking up _acknowledged_... he does have to admit he's beginning to stick to the sheet in awkward places, and the used condom is now wrapped in a wad of tissues and discarded somewhere down near the foot of the bed. 

Wonderful as it is to finally be with his soulmate, there are aspects of this that could bear improvement, and so he kisses Erik's shoulder and says, "I think I'm going to clean up a bit. Want to join me?"

Erik rolls over, and the bleary-eyed expression he has leaves Charles feeling more tender than ever, instantly reaching out to sweep his hand over Erik's forehead, past the crown of his head, down to his joining spot and his nape. «I love just looking at you,» Charles thinks. «I'm so glad you're here with me.»

Turning slightly, Erik nuzzles against Charles's hand. «Here with you,» he agrees, his thoughts warm and drowsy. He yawns a bit and blinks his eyes until they're fully open. "Did you want a shower?"

"As long as you're in it with me," Charles smiles.

"Sold," Erik agrees, and they finally climb out of bed, Charles grabbing up their used condom-- condoms, ugh, there's one from earlier as well-- and taking them to the bathroom in order to bin them. Erik heads for the enormous marble-walled shower, adjusting the water until steam starts rising up in the bath.

It's hard to imagine wanting Erik more than he has all night, but when Erik steps into the shower, turning his back on the spray and groaning as he massages his joining spot, Charles can't keep his hands to himself. He joins Erik in the shower and draws his hands up and down Erik's chest, his fingers seeking out Erik's nipples and scratching gently over them.

Erik looks down at him with a grin. "Again? Already?"

"People aren't exaggerating about seeker rush," Charles laughs, already reaching down to Erik's cock, curling his fingers around it. Erik's half-hard, and as Charles strokes him, he comes all the way erect, his eyes bright as he stands there under the spray, hands locked at his joining spot.

It seems as if Charles might wear out the word _perfect_ at the rate he's going, but he truly can't think of any other way to describe how Erik looks just now, water coursing down that miracle of a body, his lashes spiky-wet and a smile on his face. He reaches behind Erik for the soap, unwraps it from the paper packaging, and lathers up his hands, reaching between Erik's legs again and washing him, slow and teasing and thorough.

Erik stays where he was, hands still cupped around his joining spot, but he spreads his legs a little, giving Charles better access to his balls and the sensitive skin behind them, letting Charles caress and explore all he'd like. Well, really, Charles could spend all day at this, _several_ days at this. The hectic arousal of seeker rush hasn't diminished, but it's much easier to manage when they're touching each other, even if it's not for sex. Once he's soaped Erik, he puts his hands on Erik's hips and angles him sideways, rinsing Erik off while Erik stays there, perfectly positioned, eyes bright, breath starting to come faster and harder.

Charles glances back to the soap dish-- in addition to soap and shampoo and shower gel, there's another sample-sized lube container, this one waterproof, of course. Charles grabs for it and pops it open, and when Erik makes a small pleading noise, Charles comes up on his toes and kisses Erik's open mouth.

«I just want to touch you. Is it all right if I touch you?»

«Yes, please, _please_ , Charles...»

Charles reaches back to the nape of Erik's neck and squeezes gently; Erik arches, moaning. "Erik?"

«...please...»

Oh, damn-- Charles should have realized, he wasn't just keeping his arms out of the way, of course not, he's in a present position. God. But he's beautiful like this, and he seems so happy, and... Charles shakes himself. " _Erik_ ," he says firmly, and he holds Erik at the nape of the neck, waiting until Erik can get his eyes open and _look_ at Charles. Once he does, Charles says, "Erik, I'm here. I'm right here. You don't have to say 'please', you can put your arms down."

Erik flinches, taking a step back as his arms come down to his sides. "Damn it. I'm sorry, I don't know why... we weren't even _doing_ anything..."

"It's all right," Charles reassures him. It's the hardest thing in the world, keeping his distance now-- even if that distance is only a scant few inches-- but he stands his ground and waits for Erik to settle. "I'd like to use my hands on you, if you'd like that. May I?"

It takes a few moments for Erik to come back to himself; he splashes water over his face, shakes his head hard to clear some of the droplets, and then steps into Charles's space again, nodding. "I want that," Erik says softly. "And I'm not saying please because I'm in headspace this time, I'm just trying to be polite. So... please."

Charles's smile feels like it's going to stretch his cheeks; he tries to keep some of that in, tries biting his lip to hold some of it back, but then he stops himself. There's no _need_ to hold any of this back with Erik, there's nothing he can't share with Erik, now. "Absolutely," he murmurs, and he covers his palm with the slick waterproof lube and gives Erik one long, twisting stroke, base to tip.

Erik's head falls back immediately, and he reaches behind himself to the shower wall, bracing himself. "God," he gasps out-- and if anything's going to soothe Charles's ego, after he somehow missed the warning signs that Erik was falling into headspace, it's seeing the rapture on his soulmate's face just from one stroke of his hand. "Charles-- please--" He gets his eyes open. "Polite again," he adds. "Because I didn't want to just say, _more_."

"You can," Charles says, stepping in, shoving the lube bottle back onto its shelf. "I like hearing 'more' and 'yes' and whatever you feel inspired to say." He slips an arm around Erik's shoulders and comes in close, starting to stroke him in earnest now. Erik wraps his arms around Charles's back, and that's exactly right, not a submissive move, just the two of them meeting each other for basic mammal sex-- oh, this is wonderful, it's far, far better than the role essentialists Charles knows and works with would ever credit. "God. _Erik_. Look at you, you're _beautiful_ , you're everything--"

"More," Erik growls out again, into Charles's ear this time, and Charles shivers, speeding up his strokes. "God, Charles, _yes_ \-- more, I want you, I _want_ you, please--"

"Politeness again?" Charles asks, trying to tease-- he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to have to back off again. He can feel Erik's pleasure and arousal glowing hot and steady through their bond, and he moves his hand to keep giving Erik all the things that are making that excitement burn hotter still. But if Erik's slipping... he _has_ to watch for that, he can't ruin this, can't allow it to slip away from them.

"Desperation this time," Erik gasps. "You had me, you've had me _twice_ , we keep going at it over and over and I still need you _so much_ , Charles, I need you again, I need you _right now_ \--" He rocks his hips forward, thrusts his cock through the circle of Charles's fingers. "Would you fuck me, I want you to fuck me so much--"

Charles glances around the shower, but there's not really anything for him to step up on, and the height difference... it's fairly substantial. Still, there's more than one way to go about it, and he switches hands, his left sliding up and down on Erik's very slippery cock. "Get your legs a little further apart," he says, and Erik obeys-- was that too close to an order? Never mind now, Erik's waiting for him, eyes bright, and he feels so _happy_. It's hard to think of anything else when Erik's aroused beyond words and the bond's telling Charles he's thrilled about every moment of this.

He slips his right hand behind Erik, drawing it down his cleft... Erik gasps and steadies himself on Charles's shoulders. «That's it, love, lean on me...» Charles smiles, feeling Erik hold him all the tighter for that, and then he's moving his fingers in, three of them; Erik's more than ready for that.

It's a little awkward, stroking Erik off while pressing three fingers into him, the water cascading over them and making everything a blur, but it's worth it for the way Erik's fingertips dig into Charles's shoulders, the way he rocks into Charles's hands and thinks «yes, just like that, more, do that, I want you, I want more than this, I could take your hand, I'd give you that, _please_ , Charles!»

Charles has to rest his head against Erik's chest for a moment. He's tempted, he won't deny it, but he's not going to offer up fisting for the first time in a _shower_ , for pity's sake. He has a little more self-control than that, even if they _are_ in the throes of seeker rush.

Erik tests that self-control, though, when his hand slips up to Charles's joining spot, and he leaves kiss after kiss against Charles's temple. «You're here... I missed you... I love you... can you feel me, do you know how much I love you, want you, please, Charles, _please_ , fuck me, make me come, please...!»

«I want to,» Charles sends back, all at once desperate and needing Erik every bit as badly as Erik needs him. Erik's hot around his fingers, _ready_ \-- fucked twice and still begging for it, _God_. And Charles... it must be the physiological boost from seeker rush, there's no other way to explain how he's hard again, as though he hasn't come three times tonight. Twice, buried deep in Erik's body... they could go a third time, they could do that, they're both ready for it, both want it, _need_ it...

Erik pulls back with a gasp. «You can,» he sends. «You can, I want you to--» He reaches down and gently draws Charles's hands away, hissing slightly when Charles's fingers move out of him. And then he's turning, kneeling down on the shower floor, bracing his hands against the wall, his knees spread wide and his arse angled out. Charles shudders, his eyes almost crossing with need.

«Erik, are you sure, we could go back to bed-- I should at least get another condom and--» And he's bending anyway, he'll just kiss Erik's shoulders before he goes, he's going to get back up any moment, the marble tiles are hard and uncomfortable, _oh God_ , he needs Erik, he needs this, there's nothing else in the world but the steam from the shower and the marble tiles and _Erik, Erik, Erik_ , kneeling for him, ready for him, telling Charles _I want you to._

«Months and months, it's just you, I just want it to be you, _fuck_ condoms, I want to _feel you_ ,» Erik sends. Charles groans, reaching between his legs, squeezing his cock hard at the base-- even chasing down his arousal with a mental command isn't going to help as much as he'll need it to, not with Erik saying things like that.

«I haven't either, it's been six months, I've been tested, I'm sure... I'm with you, only you,» Charles babbles out, his thoughts bursting into Erik's mind one after another. The worry washes through his mind that Erik might be slipping down again, that he might feel obliged to offer this. Hurriedly Charles adds, «We don't have to, it's all right, I don't mind, it's fine, it's _fine_...»

Erik growls something aloud, lost to the noise of the shower, and then sends, «I fucking mind! I'm your soulmate, no barriers, nothing between us, I want _all_ of you! _Fuck_ me, Charles. No waiting. _Now!_ »

That definitely doesn't sound, or feel, as if it's coming from submissive headspace; finally Charles can let go and fulfill his body's insistence to _move._ Sobbing out a breath, scrambling to get into position, he presses the head of his cock to Erik's hole-- and he has to breathe out hard, eyes shut, body shivering. It's been ages since he did this without protection-- it's so good, how is he even going to get _into_ Erik when it's already this good-- but he moves forward anyway, feels Erik's body taking in those first inches of hot bare skin. Erik moans, pushing back, his half of their bond clamoring with pleasure and arousal and satisfaction, and Charles wishes he could give Erik the same, show him how good this is, how incredible it feels to be taken in this way, inch by inch, feeling nothing between them, just Erik, _his soulmate_ , his own, _his_.

When his hips are pressed against Erik's ass, when Erik has him completely, Charles puts his shaking hands on Erik's hips. He slides slowly out and in again, and again, again, trying to acclimate, wear down his sensitivity a bit to let him move faster, but every movement just gets him closer and he has to stop; he won't be able to fuck Erik for long, and from what he's sensing from Erik, from the low greedy moans Erik's voicing, there's no point in Charles trying to use his ability to hold back. It's going to be fast again for both of them.

«I'm going to come if I even _breathe_ ,» Charles warns him. «Do you need me to touch you, how close are you...?»

Erik turns his face slightly, showing Charles his profile, and if there's ever been a more beautiful look of agonized ecstasy, Charles hasn't seen it. «I will when you do,» Erik promises, his thoughts gossamer-light against Charles's. «Charles. Please. _Move._ »

He doesn't want to risk going over without Erik, not even with that look of tense passion on Erik's face, so he gets one hand down on Erik's cock-- dragging a cry out of Erik's throat-- and brings his other hand up to Erik's joining spot. Not for the first time, he's wishing he were tall enough to kiss Erik there while making love to him, but it's all right-- his palm, warm against it, has Erik's excitement building so fast it's threatening to take Charles over even if Charles doesn't move a muscle.

He strokes Erik's cock once, then draws back and slams into him, and there, two strokes, three, his hand working Erik's cock hard as he pounds into Erik's arse, and in no time they're both coming, Erik's head snapping back, Charles feeling Erik's cock jerk at the same moment he comes inside him. _Inside_ him, _in_ him, Charles has never particularly eroticized barebacking but _this_ \-- he's marked Erik, inside and out, and as he half-collapses against Erik's back, all he can do is think, «Mine.»

Erik's swallowing over and over, almost convulsive, and Charles scrapes enough brain cells together to put his hands on Erik's hips and check in with him. «Erik? I'm here...»

«I know. I _know_.» A spike of frustration lances through the bond, and Charles nearly pulls back as if stung. He manages to stay put, but it's a close thing. «I need to get off my knees _now_ or I'm going to... I won't be able to... please, Charles. Help me.»

It's enough to break Charles's heart, hearing that from his soulmate-- _his_ mate, he'd do anything at all to protect this man, and what Erik needs is to be helped off his knees. _Now._

He pulls out carefully, struggles to his feet and offers Erik both his hands. After a moment, Erik climbs up, too, and he rests back against the cold wall of the shower, both hands pressed to his face. Charles can't do anything but stand near him, hand light on Erik's hip, waiting this out. He'd thought he was done feeling helpless when they went back to his hotel together, thought at last he was through feeling powerless to do anything to help or comfort Erik, but it seems there's more of that to come.

\---

They do, finally, finish showering. It's difficult to keep his hands to himself, especially when Erik washes away the lube and soaps his cock and balls clean again, touching himself with his elegant long-fingered hands. Afterwards, they dry off and wrap up in the black terrycloth bathrobes provided by the hotel. They both smell of lemon verbena, bright and herbal, and Charles smiles to himself as they head back to the bedroom. That scent is going to remind him of Erik for a long time.

Back at the bed, Charles draws the sheets back, and they find the closest thing to a clean spot and curl up together there. Erik wraps his arm around Charles's shoulders, and Charles tucks his head in against Erik's chest, sighing.

"I'm sorry," Erik begins. Charles reaches up and touches his face, but he resists the impulse to cover Erik's lips with his fingertips; the last thing he should do now is stop Erik from saying whatever he needs to. "We'd done so well before that, I thought..."

"It's all right," Charles promises. "Whatever it takes to keep you steady, keep you _with_ me, I don't mind doing it."

"We need to talk," Erik says, and Charles feels his heart thump in his chest, an echoing beat that has his throat tightening immediately. Thank God Erik can't feel anything from him; Charles can't exactly offer him space if Erik feels distress from Charles at the the very suggestion that they should have a conversation.

"All right," Charles says, finally, dropping his head back against Erik's chest. "About...?"

"Acknowledgement."

If Charles thought he felt distressed before, it was nothing compared to this. "Oh?"

"I'm not ready." Erik's arms tighten around him. "I want to. I'm _yours_. I want to be yours. But I can't... it can't be tonight."

"We're here another week," Charles jokes, but it's all too serious, it comes out badly. Erik eases him back, and Charles looks away, unable to meet Erik's eyes.

Erik waits him out. When Charles finally looks back at him, he's tried to paint on his brightest smile, but the unhappiness ebbing through the bond implies he hasn't done the best job of it. 

"I want to acknowledge you," Erik says firmly, and that helps. "But I want to take it slowly."

"Slowly. As in more than a week," Charles says. Erik nods. "But... you live in Pittsburgh. I live in New York." Charles's throat tightens, and he barely manages to ask, "What do we do about that?"

Erik doesn't answer, and that in itself is ominous. Charles blinks several times-- he's not going to succumb to tears again, not after all they've shared tonight, not when this conversation isn't over. Erik hasn't even _answered_ him. He could say, _come with me._

"I never felt like Pittsburgh was home," Erik says, and for a moment Charles's heart leaps. "Until this year. I've made friends in MFMR that I'd have a hard time giving up, but it isn't just that. It's Helix, and what I've been doing for mutant visibility in Pittsburgh, and..." He takes a breath. "I can't just leave."

"All right," Charles says slowly. "Then..." He's been to Pittsburgh once. Granted, the view of it was practically aerial, but still... Erik's going to be there. "Is there room at your place for two?"

He feels so exposed, nakedly grasping, and when Erik looks away, the first tear falls. Charles wipes it off his cheek, impatient, hoping Erik didn't see.

"I don't understand," Charles says. His voice wavers more than he'd like, but he doesn't dare use telepathy; he knows he'd send so much more than words, and he can't do that to Erik, he can't possibly risk things with Erik that way. "Even if we don't acknowledge, surely we could still be in the same _state_."

Erik doesn't look at him, and his voice is very quiet when he says, "We're in the middle of seeker rush, Charles. Can you really be sure I'm what you want?"

"Yes." Charles grabs the lapels of Erik's bathrobe and waits until Erik meets his eyes. Erik's lashes are wet too; it isn't just Charles. " _Yes_. Are you hearing me? _Listen_ to me. _Yes_ , Erik. Yes, you're the one I want. _Yes._ "

Erik pulls Charles into his arms, his face pressed to Charles's shoulder. Charles feels his body shaking, and the emotions coming through the bond are so complicated-- love, fear, hope, worry, desperation, need. It doesn't help him know what to do, what to say to make this better.

«We're together now,» Erik thinks at him, and Charles rests his head on Erik's shoulder, too. «Nothing's going to change that. I just need time, Charles. Please.»

Swallowing down fear and misery, Charles holds onto Erik and nods. He takes a deep breath. "The windowseat has a deep cushion, it looks comfortable enough," he tries. "I could sleep there."

"I'm tempted to say we shouldn't sleep at all tonight," Erik murmurs. "I'm afraid I'd wake up curled up at your feet."

It hurts, getting that image when Erik's just said he doesn't want to be with Charles-- _needs time_ , Charles tells himself sternly, that's different, even if it doesn't feel that way right now. "I wouldn't mind," Charles admits.

Of course it's the wrong thing to say. Erik draws back, his face lined with tension. "I told you when we met-- I'm not a sub anymore. No matter what keeps happening to me when we're together." He winces. "If I just give myself to you now, here, tonight... It took me eight years to get even the slightest part of me back after everything Sebastian did to me. I can't just lose all that now."

Charles has never hated anyone in his life the way he hates Sebastian Shaw; it doesn't help at all, it turns out, that the bastard's dead. He nods, slowly-- he doesn't want Erik's submission to him sharing even the slightest association with what Shaw did to him.

"If we need to wait," Charles says, and now it's a little easier to say, to be strong about this, "then I'll wait, Erik. As long as it takes."

Erik's expression eases, relief flooding the bond. "Thank you," Erik whispers, pulling Charles close. "Thank you."

He shouldn't have to thank Charles for that. Charles should have been able to just offer, just back off when asked. Charles swallows down his pride, and his shame, and just holds Erik. At least there's that; at least he can give Erik that much. He'll give Erik what he can for as long as Erik will accept it.


	16. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (7/11)

There's a packet of Starbucks ground coffee and a selection of tea bags next to the room's gleaming coffeemaker, but it won't be enough caffeine to last the night, not with the way they're tiring each other out. It doesn't help that a simple look between them is enough to set them off-- they've tried to start conversations a few times, about the wedding rings Erik made for Jason and Kurt, about Charles's sister and her newfound soulmate, but each time they make it through about three minutes of talking before they're on each other again, kissing as though their lives depend on it. And from there, it's so easy to lose themselves in each other's bodies-- it really is beginning to seem like they're inexhaustible.

«I love you,» Charles sends, tangled up with Erik, both of them on their sides, kissing him over and over again. He's got a hand in Erik's bathrobe, his palm warm against Erik's side; Erik has both hands covering Charles's joining spot, massaging him there and soaking up every little shudder and groan that earns him. «I do. Erik...»

Erik's out of words by now; all he can do is send love. He still hasn't figured out if there's a difference between sending it through the bond and projecting it to Charles through telepathy, but Charles seems to feel what Erik's feeling either way. Maybe they'll figure it out when Erik goes back to Pittsburgh and it's all the bond; maybe by then Erik will be able to feel Charles, too. They have a week here, a week to be together in as many ways as they can without acknowledgment. Surely that missing piece of their bond will come back to them by then.

Charles clings a little more tightly to Erik; maybe he caught some of that, the part where Erik's been thinking about Pittsburgh again. He rests his head against Erik's chest for a moment, closing his eyes, his thoughts carrying a tinge of confession: «I never want to let you go.»

If it takes reassuring Charles about this a thousand times, Erik can do that. «I don't want to let you go, either.» He strokes Charles's joining spot again and kisses the top of his head. «You're all I've been able to think about for months.»

Charles moves up and kisses Erik-- light, this time, but then, 'light' is relative tonight. Erik tries to get his legs apart, but he's tangled up in his bathrobe. 

«I could never tell,» Charles sends. «You said sometimes you were thinking of me, but I never knew.»

Erik clutches at Charles, his own heart twisting. «I think of you all the time. When I'm happy. When I'm lonely. When, um...» His thoughts bend back toward the eleven-inch steel dildo he has at home, and with that, Charles breaks away and ducks his head against Erik's shoulder, a low chuckle in his throat.

«I really do need to meet this 'rival' and see if we can team up,» he teases.

Even as Erik's face heats, he laughs softly against the top of Charles's head. «I can't believe you thought it was someone else. As if I've _ever_ wanted someone else the way I want you... as if I could ever...»

Charles looks up at him again, eyes as bright as his smile. «I've been thinking of you all the time, as well.» He gives Erik a light push and deftly rolls him over onto his back, climbs on top of him and squirms a little so he can cup lightly over Erik's joining spot. A slight lean up, and he can nuzzle Erik's buzzed-down hair. «I like this,» he sends. «It feels good to touch, and it looks so sexy...»

Erik struggles a little more with his bathrobe, trying harder to get his legs apart. He's _very_ ready for more now, and the terrycloth isn't giving him nearly enough friction, not as much as he'd like. He brings one hand down to Charles's hip, pressing Charles more firmly against him, all while trying to bend his head up and get more of Charles's hand on soul's-home, and Charles obliges, stroking his joining spot. «Yes! Oh, God, it's so _good_ when you touch me there...»

Petting him a bit, slowing down the pace, Charles smiles. «Shall we explore that a bit?» And with that, he lightly draws his nails down Erik's joining spot.

It makes Erik shiver in Charles's arms, already feeling the urge to just let Charles do anything, have anything, have his way with Erik here and now, whatever it might be. He nods a little, letting his eyes close as he focuses on that sensation.

In response, Charles scratches a bit more firmly over Erik's joining spot. Erik gasps, bending his head so he can tuck it against Charles's shoulder; Charles draws his legs up, squeezing Erik between his thighs and settling down more firmly on top of him. Erik can feel Charles's hard-on through their bathrobes, barely-- not enough, not nearly enough.

«I want you, too,» Charles thinks. Erik can almost hear the laughter in the thought; he understands it perfectly. Have they done anything tonight other than prove it, over and over, how much they want each other? It should be obvious, it shouldn't need saying, but hearing Charles tell him _I want you_ , hearing those words in his mind, still leaves Erik winded and starry-eyed.

With a wicked smile, Charles rolls the both of them over, his hand sneaking between them-- somehow, when Erik lands on top of him, Charles has managed to get their bathrobes untied and the plush fabric pressed apart, so that there's nothing between them where it counts. Charles's cock slides back and forth beside Erik's as Charles works his hips, and Erik gasps, settling between Charles's legs, cradling Charles in his arms.

«There, now,» Charles thinks, and though his head's a bit lower than Erik's now, he can still reach up and easily find Erik's joining spot. 

Erik moans, eyes fluttering closed, pleasure arcing through him. With no emotions from Charles coming to him through the bond, Erik craves every gesture that demonstrates how Charles feels, and the physical evidence of Charles's desire for him leaves him staggered every time. «I love you, I love you-- _please_...»

«You don't have to ask, I'm here, I have you…» Erik can feel it, Charles trying to keep Erik from sliding down into headspace, but a moment later Charles rakes his nails down soul's-home, slow and hard this time, giving Erik a strong scratch that would be incredible-- if only it were anywhere else.

«Could you... anywhere but that...» It's enough to keep Erik from sinking, at least, having to make a request instead of just blindly accepting whatever Charles wants to give him. «It just, it hurt for _years_...»

Charles flattens his hand there, the warmth from his palm soothing out the momentary hurt. «Of course. I'm sorry, love.» He tips his head up, and Erik meets him halfway, kissing Charles again, groaning as he feels Charles's lips part beneath his, as Charles slips his tongue into Erik's mouth and takes over the kiss. It's so _easy_ to give ground like this; every time, it's better than Erik dreamed. «What I'd like to do…» Charles squirms under Erik, rolls his hips and sends their cocks sliding together again-- _God_ , that's good, that's _so_ good, Erik has to stop kissing Charles just to _feel_ it. «--what I'd like to do is everything, I'll save it for next time, this is too good, just like this.»

«Just like this...?» Erik thinks he has an idea what Charles means by that, but he still lifts his eyebrows, asking permission even as he slips one arm free of his bathrobe and reaches between them. Charles squeezes him at soul's-home, but there's no pain now, nothing but warmth and pleasure, and Erik takes that as a _yes_.

He angles his hips back, just enough to make space, and wraps his hand around both of them, his cock against Charles's, the two of them sliding together. A firm thrust of his hips and he's got them, held tight, the certainty that Charles _wants_ him nearly as good as the silky glide of Charles's bare skin against his own.

«Oh, _yes_ , you're a genius-- god, Erik, your _hands_ , I've wanted you to touch me for so long…» Charles wraps his arms around Erik's shoulders and folds both hands over his joining spot, now-- and it's perfect, it's better than anything Erik could have imagined, being held there while they kiss, while they stroke against each other in the circle of Erik's hand.

So many times tonight have been fast, almost a race to see who can get to the finish line first, but Erik can't even think about holding back now. He's just stroking them and thrusting against Charles and overloading on the sensations; Charles's hand on his joining spot has him needing to go over _right now_.

It feels like it's the same for Charles-- he's rutting up underneath Erik, pushing him to an ever-faster pace, and with every thrust, his hand tightens against soul's-home, until he's practically scruffing Erik there, putting a claim on Erik that Erik would _beg_ for if he could find words. Erik gasps and gives himself to that feeling, speeding up just enough to give him the extra boost he needs to come messily all over Charles's hand and cock, head thrown back, calling out in his mind. « _Charles!_ »

Charles doesn't send back words, but he leans up, kissing Erik's neck-- oh, God, showing throat, of course he was, how could he help it-- and then he's crying out, his cock pulsing in Erik's grip, the gorgeous slick rush of his orgasm coating both their cocks as Charles shakes with it. When it's over, Charles falls back to the mattress, looking stunned and exhausted, hair damp with sweat at the root and face flushed, his lips dark, blue eyes bright. He's the most beautiful thing Erik's ever seen, and somehow, impossibly, he keeps getting more and more enticing every time.

Erik can't stay up on his arms anymore; he collapses on Charles, panting softly. He leaves a kiss against the side of Charles's neck, drawing a pleased sound from Charles; that just makes Erik more determined to pay attention to that part of him, nuzzling him there as well. «Yours,» Erik thinks. His thoughts feel fuzzy; he wonders what it's like for Charles to hear him this way, desperately fucked-out and overwhelmed. «I'm yours, I waited all this time to be yours...»

The grip Charles has on Erik's joining spot may be a bit lighter now, but his hands are still in place. It's sending shivers down Erik's spine, just to have Charles touch him there; he _needs_ that, needs Charles's claim on him now. Giving himself to Charles feels like the most important thing he's ever done.

Charles rubs his cheek against Erik's; Erik swallows, holding still, so damn eager to please it almost hurts. «You amaze me,» Charles sends. «When we were boys, I'd try to imagine what you'd be like, and you're so much _more_ than I could have hoped. I'm so glad it's you.»

Erik's throat feels tight. He's still got one hand that's clean and isn't trapped between them; he puts it behind him, his hand resting at the small of his back, fingers curled loosely, trying to keep them relaxed. It almost works; he almost doesn't tremble. «I'm yours.»

He feels Charles smiling against his cheek; it was the right thing to do, to say. Charles strokes one hand down Erik's back and curls it around his wrist. Breath warm against Erik's ear, Charles murmurs, "You're mine."

It's right. He's doing it right. Maybe... maybe this can work, maybe he's not going to lose Charles just because he doesn't know what the hell he's doing, maybe... he nods, though it's difficult, keeping his wrist in Charles's grip. It has his heart racing from nervousness and tension-- he tries to stem that off and keep it out of their bond, it's not fair, not Charles's fault, he's not _afraid of Charles_ , for fuck's sake. He pushes that across, more urgent now: «Anything, Charles. Anything you want.»

Charles's hand is gentle when he caresses Erik at soul's-home. «I want _you_.» He nudges Erik gently, getting Erik to lift up enough to offer his mouth again, and then he kisses Erik, very soft, very slow. «I only want you. And I have you. I love you.»

Finally, Erik gets his other hand out from between them, and he wipes it off on the sheet before putting it behind his back, too. Collapsed on Charles's chest it doesn't matter that he's managed to put himself in such a vulnerable, immobile position; where would he want to go? «Yours,» he sends. «I'll do anything. Anything you want. Always.» He can do this, _be_ this, _this one time_ it isn't going to go wrong on them...

Charles folds Erik up in his arms, kissing him briefly again before sending more thoughts to him. «I'm so happy with you.»

Erik feels reassurance and certainty and calm from Charles, but it's not enough, he can feel himself stuttering down the fucking rabbit's hole his submission's been lost to all these years. His own thoughts are jagged-edged, his breath getting increasingly unsteady, but he can't pull himself up from this, can't even get his hands out from behind his back. «Yes-- please...» _Fuck._ What's _wrong_ with him, why here, why _now_ \-- «I'll be good for you, I _promise_ ,» but he knows better, and Charles must know better by now, too-- for all the promises Erik wants to make, all he's going to end up doing is breaking on Charles's floor.

«I know,» Charles sends. He strokes his thumb over Erik's inner wrist; by now he must be feeling the tremors in Erik's hands. Stupid, _useless_ \-- what good is a submissive who can't submit, why is Charles even still here?

But he's not just here, he's easing Erik over onto his side. «Move for me? Like this.» A moment later he's reaching down to the foot of the bed, drawing up a blanket to pull over their legs, and then he's back, pulling Erik close, holding Erik's hand instead of his wrist. «Thank you, love.»

His other hand moves back to the back of Erik's neck, not his joining spot, not now, and Erik struggles to stay calm for only a few seconds before he has to shake his head and press back, getting a little more space between them. « _Damn it._ »

«It's all right,» Charles sends, shifting again to keep touching him-- but he's backing off a bit, hands on Erik's shoulder and his hip.

Having Charles away from him is the last thing Erik wants, but it's the only thing that's going to help pull him out of this headspace-- and _God_ , he's tired of having to come right back up every time he starts to go there. It's hard not to feel embarrassed and ashamed of himself-- once upon a time he could _do_ this, he could sink into a place where he felt like he belonged to Charles and he could love every second of it. He could surface effortlessly afterward, satisfied and proud and secure in his dominant's love. That seems so impossibly far away, now.

Now, all he can do is look down at the both of them and flinch away from the mess-- more and more, he's feeling like a useless, untrained puppy. «I don't know what the hell I was thinking,» he sends, drawing back more. «I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Charles--»

Charles lets his hand slip away from Erik as Erik keeps moving toward the other side of the bed. Erik can barely look at him, let alone feel him or try to read the expression on his face. «What are you sorry about?»

For a sick moment, Erik thinks it's a game, or a test-- maybe Charles wants a _confession_ or something. It hits painfully close to home, memories of Sebastian swamping him, and Erik grabs for anger, wraps it around himself like barding. He pushes fully out of bed, all too aware that he's wrecking everything, but what else can he do-- he can't _stay_ here like this. But he's not leaving Charles, _not him_ , just this feeling; he swallows down a touch of the anger, enough to let him say, "I need to clean up."

"Can I come with you?" Charles asks quietly, already sitting up. Erik hesitates, and nods. Charles's shoulders slump a little as he comes to his feet and follows Erik into the bathroom.

\---

Erik swabs himself down with a hand towel-- they're going to need to call housekeeping for more towels, more flannels, and fresh linens by the time all's said and done-- and Charles follows suit, staying well back and giving Erik as much space as he seems to need while they wash up. The bathroom's more than large enough for that, with two sinks widely placed along a vast vanity. Charles doesn't miss, though, that Erik's not looking at him in the mirror. Then again, Erik isn't looking at himself, either. It wrings Charles's heart.

Feeling Erik's hot rush of anger was awful. Charles would give anything to know what he said, what he did wrong to provoke that response. There are times he truly feels he understands why so many people pushed for him to take Psychitrex over the years, why even people who are enthusiastic about mutations in all their other forms seem to feel that telepathy is the one enhanced sense people would be better off without-- even with all Charles should know, all he's _supposed_ to know, his ability seems to lead him astray again and again. Erik's his soulmate, he's even _meant_ to know what Erik is feeling... and of all the mistakes he's made, the ones he's made with Erik have been more frequent, and brought about more disastrous results, than any problems he's caused with anyone else.

Well, Amelia, perhaps... at least Erik can still bear to stay in the same room with him. So far.

He glances up at his reflection and finds himself looking away, ashamed; he's so glad right now that the bond hasn't come back for Erik, that he can't feel Charles brooding like this. It's unacceptably selfish to pity _himself_ while his soulmate's so distraught, dealing with sub drop when he ventures even slightly into headspace. It's Charles's responsibility to take care of Erik when this is happening; Charles _teaches_ concordance, he should know better than to let Erik get that far in the first place. He certainly should have known better than to take hold of Erik's wrist when he was beginning to slide, no matter how right it felt or what a sense of fulfillment and comfort came through the bond from Erik at first.

Still, when Erik's finished washing off his body and scrubbing at his face, he dries off and turns to Charles, reaching out. Charles goes to him at once, and Erik pulls Charles into his arms, holding him close. If Charles trusted his ability right now, he'd try sending reassurance, but instead he uses his body for that, rubbing Erik's back, dipping his head to press a soft kiss against his chest.

It does something to help, at least. Charles can feel Erik's tension easing. "Better," Erik murmurs.

"I'm glad." Charles tilts his head back, just enough to look up at Erik. "Can we... should we talk about it?"

Erik sets his jaw, shaking his head. "I don't know what good it'd do. I'm still fucked up about submission even though it's _you_. Apparently I just don't--"

Charles strokes his back again, long slow caresses from his shoulders to the dimples just above his arse. The subtle ridges of those eight cuts on his lower back remind Charles just how much Erik's dealing with, how patient Charles needs to be. "You don't...?"

"I just don't get that back." Charles feels anger through the bond again, but this time he thinks-- he _hopes_ \-- perhaps it's not meant for him. "Damn it."

"Do you want to go back to--" He almost says _bed_ before he catches himself. "The other room," he finishes quickly, "do you want to sit down?"

Erik nods, and they hold hands as they head back for the bedroom; Charles waits for Erik to lead them back to bed, where they pull on their robes, covering up a bit. It probably won't stop Charles from wanting to leap on Erik at every opportunity, but at least it'll put a layer between them. Maybe it'll help. They pile pillows up against the headboard and sit up, still close, Erik's hand reaching for Charles's again. Charles takes it, squeezing.

"I'm sorry," Charles says quietly. "I truly don't mean to push you. I didn't realize it was happening til you were already sliding, and I thought perhaps a softer landing would help you bounce back out of it. We're both still finding our way with this, but I'm certain we can work it out together. I'm open to anything. We could keep things basic for the rest of our lives and I'd be happy."

"You'd settle for it," Erik says, his hand tightening on Charles's.

"I'd be _happy_ ," Charles corrects gently, "because I'd be with you."

Erik's quiet for a while, looking down at their hands. "I think I was being overly optimistic. When we met, and I said _I don't do that anymore._ " He swallows. "It was like this that night-- early on-- before we met, when I went out to scene and it ended badly. I start scening and I just tumble down, I don't even have a chance to think. And I don't want to be down, and I don't want to come up..."

"It's not uncommon to have difficulties with submission," Charles tries. Erik flinches, but he doesn't move away. "Role essentialists may disagree, but I feel I'm in a position to know firsthand: no one is born just knowing how to submit or dominate, it's a learning process. And it's not uncommon for one's relationship with submission-- or domination, or anything else on or off the spectrum of concordance-- to change over time, growing more or less difficult due to circumstances, or experiences... it's not always linear. What's easy at fifteen can be more difficult at twenty or twenty-five."

Erik looks up at Charles, one eyebrow raised now. "Is this the sort of thing you teach in your classes?"

Instantly, Charles closes his mouth, his face going hot. Alex and his teasing _Yes, sir, Professor, sir_ come roaring to the forefront of his mind; of course his bondmate doesn't want to be subjected to his lectures, what was he _thinking_. "Sorry--"

"No, don't be-- it isn't that." Erik squeezes Charles's hand. "I was just thinking... it's too bad I've never sat in on any of them." He shrugs. "I never took concordance classes at all, not beyond the basic health classes back in Park View. And even there it wasn't exactly useful-- there was a lot of lecturing about how sex outside recognition is bad, and the only way to ensure a healthy partnership is staying in a monogamous relationship that starts at acknowledgment and lasts the rest of your lives."

Charles's throat feels tight. "That's not what I teach."

"It's not what you've lived." Erik draws back, and if Charles were feeling any sense of recrimination or accusation from the bond now, it might break him-- but he's not. Just a certain pragmatic sense of acceptance, and-- guilt? He can't imagine why Erik would be feeling guilty, unless it's the leftover ebb of sub drop, from before. "It's not what either of us lived." Erik sighs and reaches up, rubbing his palm over his joining spot. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have _anything_ to apologize for," Charles insists, coming close again. Erik doesn't stop him or try to pull away, and Charles turns to face Erik fully, so he can settle his hands on Erik's shoulders. "You don't, Erik. None of what happened to us was your fault. I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it," «in as many ways. It wasn't your fault.»

Erik slides his arms around Charles's waist, and finally, _finally_ holds him close again. Charles doesn't hesitate to curl up with him, winding his arms around Erik's neck and leaning into him, eyes closed, face pressed to Erik's chest.

"I'm always going to believe I should have fought harder for you," Erik whispers.

Charles reaches up, holds Erik's joining spot in his hands. "I'm always going to believe I should have done more for you," he confesses. Erik squeezes him, hard, and all the emotions shift-- no more guilt, no more fear or worry, Erik's rolling Charles over, stretching out atop him and pressing him into the mattress. It doesn't matter that their robes are getting tangled; it doesn't matter that Charles himself is still feeling all that lingering sorrow. What Erik's feeling is relief, gratitude, warmth, and-- increasingly-- lust, and when Erik bends his head down to capture Charles's mouth in a kiss, Charles gives it to him eagerly.

«I love you,» Erik sends, the force and sincerity in it nearly enough to make Charles tremble. «I love you. Whatever I can give you,» a hint of sadness and disappointment trickles in, «whatever I can do... it's yours.»

Charles presses Erik back, just a little. "Just be with me," he whispers. "Just stay with me, for as long as you can. You're all I need."

As much as Charles feels regret through the bond, Erik's nodding. Maybe if he hears it enough, eventually he'll believe it. Charles is more than willing to try.

\---

Over and over again, the smallest things keep setting Erik off. He's never thought of himself as sex-crazed by any stretch of the imagination, and these last few years he's had very little sex drive to speak of. But it's almost impossible to be close to Charles and not want more.

Rolling on top of him during their conversation was more a matter of being close to Charles at the time, but now-- Erik shifts, and Charles shifts beneath them, and instantly they're kissing again, deeply, Charles squirming until his legs are free of the constricting layers of bathrobe and he can rub his heel up and down Erik's calf.

It's just going to be another slide into headspace if Erik lets this go on, but the idea of letting Charles go-- the idea of stopping-- he doesn't want to stop, now or ever, and Charles's kisses are so eager and so thrilling, all at once--

He manages to pull away, barely, but seeing Charles's mouth wet and swollen from kissing is almost enough to make Erik pounce on him again. It's a miracle, but somehow Erik manages to get out, "Wait."

Charles sucks in a breath and nods, his teeth pressing into his lower lip. He closes his eyes, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Sorry," he says, "maybe you'd better-- if you want to stop--"

Erik rolls off him, putting a little distance between them. "I don't know if this is going to get any easier tonight," he admits. "I didn't know I _could_ do it this many times in one night..."

That makes Charles smile, but soon enough he's reaching out a hand and stroking it down Erik's forearm, looking concerned again. "I'd suggest trying to sleep some of this off, but..."

"But we talked about that," Erik says quietly. Even feeling Charles's warmth through his bathrobe sleeve has him itching to be touched again, to be touched much more thoroughly. He hasn't had Charles's hands on him nearly enough yet...

"We could call down for more tea and coffee. Maybe we could get ourselves in order, a bit, while we're waiting."

Erik glances around the room and takes a deep breath in through his nose. The whole place smells like them, at this point; it smells like sex and sweat and come and... he shifts, sitting up, adjusting his cock. "Maybe it would be easier if we were somewhere else," he offers, glancing around the room. "Somewhere a little less..."

"...Congenial?" Charles suggests, which isn't the word Erik would've chosen in a week of trying, but close enough.

"Someplace without a bed," Erik agrees. "We could go downstairs to the bar..."

"Closed," Charles says. "That is, the bar itself. We could still go there to sit, but it's very well appointed with cushions, it might be a bit too easy to slide into making use of them. What's open, this time of night?"

"This time of night on the twenty-fifth," Erik says. "I suppose we can forget the usual late-night coffee shops. Maybe McDonald's." He's no sooner said it than he remembers the recent ad campaign for a romantic comedy, the one with the cute scene where the domme handfed her sub french fries in a fast food place, while he knelt devotedly on a plastic tray.

Charles's brow crinkles, probably in response to Erik's emotions-- Erik finds himself recoiling from the idea of that scene and wishing for it at the same time. Part of him scoffs at the thought of an insipid display like that, but another part of him insists that he belongs on his knees at his dominant's side wherever they go, and even cheap greasy fast food brought to his lips by his dominant's hand would be welcome, would be _wonderful._

"Denny's," Charles thoroughly breaks the spell. "I remember being dragged there as an undergrad. Famous for never closing, not even on Christmas, I once read an article that said a number of them aren't even built with locks on the doors... and they don't have cushions, just mats, that's not tempting at all."

"Not to mention the floors... I definitely wouldn't want to kneel there."

"And the food isn't anything we'd want to try handfeeding with. This sounds like it suits our purposes quite well... by being rather terrible, but whatever works!" Charles says.

Even after hours of this, leaving the room doesn't sound appealing at all when he has Charles in his bed, looking so debauched. One tug and the knot in his bathrobe tie would come loose, and it would be so easy to let Charles roll him over, use that tie for so much more than holding a bathrobe closed... Erik squeezes him and kisses the top of his head, asking hopefully, «One more for the road?»

«What can we do that won't make you feel like sliding into headspace?» Charles asks seriously.

"I don't know." Erik glances around the room. "I'm starting to run out of ideas."

"Already?" The beginnings of a teasing smile lift the corners of Charles's mouth.

"Ideas that won't drop me," he clarifies. That smile disappears, and Erik winces. "I don't know. Something with a time limit, maybe." It worked well enough with Marvin, a few weeks back. "Maybe I wouldn't drop if we had a hard limit of ten minutes."

Even as he says it, it sounds a bit unrealistic; he's gone from upright to flat in far less than ten minutes with Charles tonight. But Charles is nodding, and Erik's certainly not going to miss out on a last opportunity to be with him, to _touch_ him, before they're deciding whether to order Moons Over My Hammy or the French Toast Slam. 

"Ten minutes," Charles says. "What would you like to do in ten minutes?"

This is part of the problem; the instant Charles asks, Erik can think of a dozen things. _Pin me against the wall and kiss me until I'm begging. Let me get on my knees for you, let me suck you. Sit me down in your lap and fuck me with your fingers, jerk me off, tell me how long you've waited to do all this to me, that everything else was just practice for the real thing..._

"You could kiss me," Erik tries. "Maybe we could be standing up."

Charles comes to his feet and offers Erik a hand, and Erik stands up with him. The height difference has yet to catch him off-guard; ever since he first met Charles it's seemed right that Charles is shorter, that Erik should have to bend his head down to give his mouth to his dominant.

It's probably dangerous to start kissing Charles when his thoughts are already turning that way, but Charles catches the lapels of Erik's robe and draws him down, and Erik goes. Charles flicks his tongue against Erik's lips, easing Erik's mouth open, and Erik tries to relax into the kiss-- _relax_ into it instead of just catching Charles's joining spot in both hands and laying as much of a claim to him as a sub has any right to--

_Shit,_ he's _plummeting_ this time. Erik has to pull back, and Charles's dismayed expression makes him feel that much worse. "Not even _kissing_ ," Erik says.

"It's all right." Charles reaches up, strokes his hands over Erik's hair. "It's all right. We've already had so much sex it's a wonder we're not chafed and sore. Maybe we just need a break for a few hours, time to catch our breath."

"At least we'll be able to breathe." Charles looks a bit puzzled; Erik fills in, "They still had smoking sections at Denny's when I was growing up." It doesn't seem to quite answer the question in Charles's eyes, so Erik goes on, "When my mother and I were traveling, we ended up in Denny's a lot."

"Ah." Charles brightens; he smiles as he takes a step back. "I'd love to hear more about that, now that we're actually face-to-face. Your mother. Your family... all the mutants in your family, I was so intrigued, it was all I could do not to beg for more details when we talked about it in email."

"Then there's a plan," Erik says, and it's such a relief to think that there's _something_ he can share with Charles now, even if it's not physical closeness. If Charles wants to hear about Erik's life, before-- everything-- then Erik's more than willing to tell him. "Maybe we should dress."

"I suppose we must," Charles says ruefully, and Erik actually laughs, in complete agreement with the sentiment.


	17. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (8/11)

There aren't any Denny's restaurants near Charles's hotel, but between the two of them and their phones, they manage to find a half-dozen further out, and Charles makes a few calls to make sure they're still open and to arrange for a cab.

Erik ends up making the final call on where to go. From the map on his phone, it looks like one of the restaurants isn't too far from Pat and Rick's house. Once it's a decent hour, he can go there and get some real clothes to change into.

At least Charles has something other than his tuxedo to wear, although it's a little funny to Erik that Charles's casual clothing has just as many layers and takes just as long to get into as the tux did. He leaves the tux draped over a chair and brushes his hands down the front of his argyle sweater vest; he's in a pair of crisp chinos and a tweed jacket complete with leather elbow patches, and Erik got a glimpse of his undershirt and smartly-tailored button-down while he was dressing. He can't help being a bit amused with himself that Charles, for all that he looks like a nerdy professor now, is _still_ the hottest person he's ever laid eyes on. It doesn't hurt that he's still got Erik's cufflinks on, and the windcatcher hasn't come off since Erik put it on him.

For his part, it takes being laced back into the corset vest to fit into his tuxedo jacket properly, it's cinched in a bit at the waist, and so he ends up with all that metal boning holding him upright again once he's dressed. In a way it's comforting.

Though the way Charles looks at him when he's back in his tux isn't comforting, exactly. "I've loved the way that looks on you since the first time Jason posted snaps to Fetbook," he says, eyes roaming over Erik's body. It doesn't matter that they've had more sex tonight than Erik's had in the last year put together; Erik still responds to that gaze, stepping forward, his cock quickly getting hard in his boxer-briefs. "And I can't say the photos did anything to prepare me for the real thing."

"Has anything? Could anything?" Erik closes the distance between them and touches his fingertips to Charles's chest, resting against the spot where the windcatcher's lying under his shirt. All those layers, but he wants Erik's windcatcher closest, warmed by his skin.

"I doubt it," Charles says, low, and he reaches for Erik's waist, tilting his head so Erik can lean down and kiss him again. Erik does, moaning softly as Charles trails his fingers back and forth over Erik's corset vest, the pressure of his hands against all that metal making Erik clutch at Charles's jacket. He has to break the kiss after a few moments, panting hard against Charles's lips.

"If we don't get out of this room--"

"--we're never going to, I know," Charles breathes, one hand splayed at Erik's lower back. «I want you so much. But I want this to feel right for you. Let's get out of here, the car's waiting.»

Being in a backseat with Charles again for half an hour makes Erik think about every trashy novel he's ever read with a sex scene in a moving vehicle. The seats back here are leather, no fabric to stain... he glances over at Charles, who's angled his knees toward Erik, with his arm draped across the back of the seats. Erik finds himself edging closer and closer, until he reaches out and brushes his hand against Charles's knee, and suddenly he's got Charles crushed close to him, both his hands fisted in Charles's sweater vest, Charles's mouth hot and desperate on his.

The cab jostles to a hard stop at the next stoplight, breaking them apart. Erik glances up at the cab driver, who sighs and shakes his head.

«Seems he's worried about the upholstery,» Charles sends. «I'd like to say I have more self-control than that, but tonight...»

«Maybe if I...» Erik moves back a little, letting go of Charles's vest. He's still pressed against Charles from hip to knee, but it's a _little_ better.

They make it another ten minutes before Charles's hand slips onto Erik's shoulder, and Erik nearly crawls into Charles's lap, hands on either side of his neck, kissing him deeply. The second sigh from the cab driver doesn't even penetrate at first, but when he comes to another too-fast stop, Erik grunts and draws back. If that keeps up he's going to be at risk of biting Charles's lip by accident.

"You two just find each other or something?" the driver asks.

"Yes," Erik says brusquely, as Charles is opening his mouth to say-- Erik's not sure what he meant to say. «It's true enough as far as I'm concerned.»

Charles's eyes shine when he looks at Erik, and he brushes his fingertips against the back of Erik's hand. «That's far more than I deserve. But thank you.»

"Well, hang in there," the driver tells them. "Seeker rush is pretty wild. Me and my girl, we missed almost a week of work when we found each other back in '82. You guys, at least it's the holidays." The driver meets Erik's eyes again in the rearview mirror and smirks, "Go easy on your boy, there."

Erik feels himself flush clear up to his hairline, quickly looking away. Charles laughs, "I'll do my best," which doesn't help; Erik sets both his hands in his lap, staring down at his palms.

The cab driver's apologizing for the mistype, but even though Charles is reassuring him that it's fine, Charles's attention is all on Erik, mind-to-mind. «God! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that-- Erik--»

«No, don't apologize. I'd rather-- if one of us has to be the sub as far as other people are concerned, it shouldn't be you.» He shrugs a little, looking up at Charles again. Charles still has a worried crease between his brows, but it's smoothing out as Erik reaches to his face, cups Charles's cheek in his hand. «People aren't used to hearing someone's unoriented. It's easier. It saves questions. It's none of their business, anyway.» It's not about the involuntary flutter that started at the pit of his stomach when Charles said _I'll do my best_ , not about the way he felt nervous arousal and pride at even a hint of being called Charles's boy. «It's how I ended up on Logan's arm at the wedding. Just a matter of convenience.» Charles raises an eyebrow, and Erik tries, «He's a switch. We joked about flipping for it.»

Charles reaches up to Erik's wrist and gently curves his fingers around it-- it could be simple closeness, or he could be holding on to make a point. Erik's not even sure which he'd rather it be. «I'm sorry for thinking the worst of that,» he sends. «I should have trusted you.»

That hurts, a little-- _you should have trusted me from the start_ , Erik can't help thinking, _all the way back when we were torn away from each other_ , but they've arrived at the Denny's, and Erik pulls carefully away. 

They step out of the cab, Charles pays the driver, and soon enough they're inside, seated in one of the huge round booths in the back and nestled close to each other, looking through slightly sticky laminated menus.

The lighting here is harsh and unforgiving compared to the buttery glow in the hotel suite, but Charles looks just as good to him here, his eyes even more remarkably blue, lips still red from kissing. He washed out whatever he styled his hair with for the wedding, and it's more wavy now, even curly in back where it's short. His freckles show more, too, a pair of obvious ones on the bridge of his nose as if for emphasis, an assortment of lighter ones across his face, and Erik knows they continue down and decorate his chest, too... when Erik leans closer, chasing that thought, the vinyl booth creaks under him and reminds him why they came here in the first place, and he actually manages not to dive for a kiss or reach for Charles's buttons.

The sweater vest would've gotten in the way, anyway. Maybe that was why Charles put on so many layers.

The waitress-- the name tag on her shirt reads "Mandy"-- comes by with two glasses of water and a smaller menu, which Erik thinks at first might be for drinks or desserts. Instead, she gives Erik a wink as she slides it to him, and Erik looks at it. Of course it's the handfeeding menu. As Mandy steps away, Erik quickly pushes it aside.

"I can't tell if we were just mistyped again or not," Charles muses.

"I'm surprised you can't just pick that up with..." Erik reaches up, draws the backs of his knuckles down Charles's temple. "The nuance of that wink, I mean."

"I try not to," Charles says. "I generally ask permission about reading people, when it's feasible, and I'm afraid I don't interpret body language very well without it."

"You're welcome to read my moods," Erik says immediately.

Charles turns a huge, bright smile on him, but then bites his lower lip as his smile turns sheepish. "I already do," he says, giving a meaningful look to the back of Erik's head-- his joining spot. Erik can almost feel soul's-home itself heating up at that look. "But it means so much that you'd offer."

"It's not different? Reading moods with telepathy versus our bond."

"It's very different," Charles says. "With you, everything's clearer... fuller... more immediate. It's as though you're a part of me--" He shakes his head, nose wrinkling. "That's not a very good explanation. There's no common, consistent vocabulary for psionic abilities, it's a constant source of frustration when I try to talk about my ability."

"Jason says the same thing sometimes."

"I don't doubt it. Even though his ability manifests in an entirely different fashion to mine, we still both have extrasensory perception, which, there _again,_ that's already a terrible term-- _extra_ sensory, but of course that extra sense is extra from _baseline_ , what we have isn't 'extra' to us."

"I understand." Erik rubs his knee against Charles's, under the table out of sight. "I do, actually-- I have an 'extra' sense for metal. I can feel your phone in your pocket."

"Hmm. Is that a phone in my pocket or am I just happy to see you?" Charles quips. Erik laughs and rubs his thigh against Charles's this time, bumping the metal chassis of Charles's cellphone. "It's both, if it needs saying."

"I'd hope." Erik leans back against the booth. "But it's more than that. I can feel metal and sense what it's made of. And it's gotten so much stronger since--" he falters, "since this summer. And it's stronger when I'm near you."

Charles turns another vibrant smile on him, and Erik reaches down to squeeze Charles's knee. "I'm glad," Charles says softly. "I'm glad it's coming back for you. I'd love to explore it with you, if we can find the opportunity."

Erik reaches out with his free hand and calls the silverware on the table over to him, lining it up neatly. "I'd love to show you," he murmurs. "You saw all the candle holders I made, but I can do so much more than that now. It was wonderful, though. All that fine detail work..."

"Mine was the best of the lot," Charles beams. "Everyone remarked on it. I even had one person offer to swap with me." He laughs. "I'm afraid I was very blunt when I turned him down."

"Good," Erik says. He spreads his fingers and draws the forks, spoons, and knives into the air, doing his best to keep them as steady and even as he can. It gives him the excuse to look somewhere else while he asks, "Did you see the inscription on the bottom...?" Even while he was making that candleholder he wondered if he was going too far, if Charles was likely to think he was being overly sentimental or making an overture that was asking too much. But the latter half of this evening's done plenty to reassure him that his feelings are anything but one-sided.

"Of course." Charles rests his hand on Erik's beneath the table, stroking his fingers. Erik's flock of silverware trembles in midair. "I hoped I wasn't the only one who wanted another chance."

"And now you know. You're not."

Mandy heads back over to the table, clocking Erik's silverware with a look and then giving them both a shy grin. Her eyes pause for a moment on the circle-M pin on Charles's lapel. "Are you a teke?"

Erik sets his silverware down carefully. "Just metal."

"Metallokinetic," Charles offers, leaning in with a smile. "But I'm guessing you have some experience with telekinetic mutants...?"

Quickly she glances side to side, and then rolls her eyes at herself. "I don't know why I'm worrying, there's no one else here," she says. She reaches up and gestures carefully with two fingers, and the two table knives immediately start a mock swordfight. "I can do a little," she says, and then puts the knives down. "I'm not out or anything, so..."

"You shouldn't have to hide," Erik says. "There are resources for mutants here in Boston--"

"I'm not hiding," Mandy insists. "I'm just not... I don't usually show off. People get weird about it."

"I know," Charles says, stretching out a hand and brushing hers. "But it's getting better all the time."

Erik glances sideways at him, but it gets a smile out of Mandy, who briefly clasps Charles's hand. "It is," she agrees. "My dad used to say, when I was little, anybody who turned mutant ought to be thrown out in the street." Erik sits up straighter, unable to keep the scowl off his face. "But nowadays he's calmed down some. I might tell him when I go off to college."

"If it doesn't go well," Erik says, "there are places that can help you figure out what to do next. Do you know about the MRL here in Boston?"

"The MRL?"

"The Mutant Rights League. It's a legal advocacy firm, so they mostly handle lawsuits and other legal issues, but they also have a lot of partners in the area, places where people can seek advice, make connections. They also have an ultimate frisbee team that plays during the summer. Powers allowed, within basic safety limits." Erik grins.

"Oh." Mandy nods. "Okay, I guess... that's good to know. Thanks." She pulls her notepad out of her apron and asks, "Are you two ready to order?"

Erik relaxes back into the booth, letting Charles drape an arm around his shoulders. "I'll take the French Toast Slam," he says. He can't help feeling a touch of nostalgia at all this-- the Denny's, a fellow mutant found, his soulmate beside him. Fifteen years ago, it was his mother at his side, and whenever she found out that their waiter or waitress was a mutant, she'd leave extra on the tip, even if they didn't really have it to spare. _We all have to help each other when we can,_ she said. _It's worth it._

In his reverie he misses Charles's order completely, even though it seems to take Charles a while. Soon, Mandy's collected the menus-- not with her ability, unfortunately-- and Charles is looking after her with a smile.

"I didn't expect to run into another mutant _here_ ," Charles admits. "I rather thought the wedding cleared out the population within a three-state radius."

Erik laughs. "I think Jason and Kurt certainly tried," he says. "Or Pat did. Jason was surprised enough when Pat started off saying they needed to seat three hundred."

"You've been lucky to have them," Charles says, his hand still resting on Erik's. "I'm glad for you."

"I wish my mother could have been here," Erik admits quietly. He turns his hand over, laces his fingers through Charles's. "I wish she could have met you."

"I wish I could have met her, too," Charles says, squeezing Erik's hand. "Would you tell me about her?"

About her, about his missing father... about the trip across the country that should have led to Charles... there's so much to tell. Erik's often dreamed about being able to share _everything_ with Charles.

They have time now. And it doesn't really matter where he starts, so long as he starts somewhere. He takes a deep breath. "When I was five, my mother noticed my ability manifesting..."

\---

"It's funny," Charles says, looking down into his coffee mug. "No matter how much of this I drink, it's just not getting any better. I can't seem to get a taste for it." He's acclimated himself to all sorts of unfamiliar foods and drinks over the years-- Turkish coffee, durian, century eggs, escargot, he even found something to appreciate in that box of chocolate-covered ants Raven got him as a gag gift-- but clearly the coffee here simply isn't going to agree with him if he still finds nothing to like about it after two and a half cups.

Erik gives him an amused look. "I don't think you can ever really develop a taste for coffee this bad," he says. "At least it's fresh, by now. We've gone through at least a pot or two all by ourselves."

They really are by themselves. Apart from Mandy, there's no one else at this Denny's. It makes sense-- they're coming up on four in the morning on Christmas Day, or rather, Boxing Day, now-- but it does make it more and more of a challenge to keep his hands off of places that won't send them both running off to the gents, looking for still more privacy in a restroom stall.

It's been ages since Charles scened in a men's room, and he really ought to do better by Erik than that... but the idea gets more tempting with every minute that passes. Despite the late hour and the terrible environment, Erik's _happy_. Charles can feel that warming him all through, from his head to his toes. Erik's here with him and he's happy. Charles couldn't ask for more.

Hearing Erik talk about his mother has been wonderful; feeling Erik's love for her and the way he still misses her sends a pang through Charles, too. It's hard to imagine having such a close relationship with his own mother. Even when his father was still alive, it was Brian Xavier who spent most of his free time with Charles, who gave him the bulk of his undivided attention. Sharon tried-- Charles remembers that much, that she tried, she cared for him once-- but after Brian's death, it was so hard to reach her, and once Kurt and Cain came to live with them, it often felt like there was nothing there but politeness and habit.

It's always possible things could be different now. And that could be a positive side benefit to waiting to acknowledge: it could be an olive branch, a chance for Charles's mother to give her son and his bondmate her blessing after all these years, before they take that step.

There's no reason not to hope for that. He'll have to speak with her when he has a chance, to let her know how things have worked out. He and Erik might be waiting, but Erik's said it several times: they're _together_ now. They're not going to lose one another again.

"You look like you have something on your mind," Erik says, nudging Charles gently with his shoulder. "Should I ask?"

"I was thinking that I need to phone my mother," Charles admits. "I'm afraid I'm not nearly as close to my family as you are to the Wyngardes. My stepfather--" Charles grimaces. "He's never been easy to get along with. Or pleasant. I wish my father could have met you."

Erik catches Charles's hand in his and holds it, just opens to Charles and sends his love and understanding. It's like the mental equivalent of a warm, soothing bath, both familiar and strange; Charles hasn't felt anything like it since they were separated. He remembers those moments, when it used to seem to him as if he knew his soulmate through and through, even though they'd never met. When he'd think, _I know your heart._ It's been years since Charles was that sentimental. But even now, whatever sharp edges and angles he's developed to ward off the world, Erik has that same heart: that constancy, that strength. It makes Charles turn to Erik, rubbing his nose against the soft short hair at Erik's temple.

«I love you,» Charles thinks. «Thank you for that.»

«It's like coming home,» Erik sends back, his eyes closing. Charles presses a kiss to Erik's temple and then rests his forehead there, sighing softly. «I used to try to send you those feelings all the time.»

«I felt them.» Charles gets his arm around Erik's waist and hugs him. «Every time.» And if only he'd been able to keep himself to sending the same-- emotions through the bond instead of thoughts, God, what was he _thinking_ \-- Erik's life would have been so much better, and they might not have had to spend eight years apart.

«Tell me about your father?» Erik asks, after a while. He turns his head and kisses the top of Charles's head. «If you'd like, I mean. Do you think he would have--» A flurry of words come through, burying each other as Erik tries to draw back on some and push others forward-- _approved, liked me, minded that I was a mutant, welcomed me_ \-- «--do you think we would have gotten along?»

Charles laughs quietly. Sometimes the secondary mutation that gives him an eidetic memory is as much a curse as a blessing-- and he was surprised that it, too, was affected slightly by his Psychitrex prescription, leaving his memories intact and vivid as ever, but less immediate, needing to be searched through rather than readily at hand.

But his memories of his father are bright and clear, no need to focus to bring them to the surface. "He probably would've raced around collecting every different kind of metal he could get his hands on to see how it felt to you. I can guarantee he would've broken a thermometer for the mercury. But once he calmed down a bit, he would've loved you."

"My mother would have been so excited that my soulmate is a mutant. I don't know if she would have had as scientific a response," Erik says, and Charles can feel the fondness coming through-- fondness for the father Charles still misses, for the bondfather Erik would have had. "But I know she would have been glad to welcome you into the family." Erik glances down at the table, reaching out to rub at the handle of his table knife. "I'm glad Pat stepped forward to do that. She didn't have to."

"She loves you," Charles says, leaning in against him. "They all do."

"You're right, I've been lucky," Erik says, and then frowns, rubbing a swirled pattern down the handle of the knife. Whorls and curlicues form in his thumb's wake; they're beautiful. "With them, at least. Sometimes I used to wonder what it would have been like if they'd taken me in back in Mill Point, instead of the Stones." A surge of anger, there, and regret, and Erik pushes both aside as he wipes out the whorled pattern with a fast sweep of his thumb. He turns to Charles and says, "But the Wyngardes have always been there for me. Which I suppose means that now we're going to have to work at convincing Pat we don't need six hundred people at our--"

He stops so abruptly his jaw clicks together, flushing a bit at the neck and the cheeks. His throat works as he swallows, his eyes locked on Charles's, and all Charles feels from him is longing, not regret; concern, but not fear. He's still and quiet, waiting for Charles to say something.

Charles wraps his arms around Erik's shoulders, and Erik immediately holds him close. He sends to Charles, «I wasn't trying to presume.»

«You can,» Charles invites, pressing his lips against the side of Erik's neck. «There aren't words to describe how happy it would make me to recognize you, no words for how much I want that.»

Erik's embrace grows tighter still. «I'm still not ready. I'm not even ready to acknowledge yet. But I mean _not yet_.» Charles cups the back of Erik's neck in his hand, face pressed to his shoulder. «I don't mean never. I mean not _yet_.»

«I understand. I'm not trying to rush you,» Charles promises. «And it doesn't have to be six hundred people or even six, if you don't want. Anywhere. The two of us in private, with a justice of the peace and a witness. I don't care...» But Erik's clinging a little harder, and Charles wants to bite his own tongue-- irrelevant as that is in this context. So much for not rushing Erik, he's halfway to planning their recognition already. «But I really _don't_ mean to pressure you. There are so many things I never thought I'd have... and now here you are.» Charles eases back and adds, «Whatever you want, whenever you want it.» He tries a smile, «I think I can safely promise you won't need to make seven hundred and fifty votive holders, at least.»

That actually makes Erik laugh. "I don't blame you for wanting everything at once," he says softly. "I feel that urge, too. I almost said so at Jason's wedding."

"Oh?" Charles lifts his eyebrows. "I don't quite recall... when?"

"When I said I was done with weddings for a while, except for maybe one more." And now that Erik's said it, Charles remembers perfectly: _I think after this I'll have had my fill of weddings for a while_ , and then nervousness, uncertainty. _Although if the opportunity for one more happened to--_

Charles leans in and buries his face against Erik's shoulder, chagrined. «Us. You meant _us_.»

"Who else...?"

«I thought you were trying to find a way to break it to me that there was someone else. It feels as if I've taken every possible wrong turn along the way, come to all the wrong conclusions... I'm so sorry for that.» It's probably unfair to send his regret across telepathically, but he wants, so badly, for Erik to know. To feel his sincerity, and how badly he wants things to be different now.

Erik strokes his back, and Charles can feel a small ebb of sadness, and then Erik fording himself and focusing on _Charles_ : here and now, in his arms. «My mother always said, when we took a wrong turn somewhere... once you've made three wrong turns, you end up where you meant to go the whole time.» He pauses. «She may have meant it literally. We did get lost sometimes before I learned how to reconcile my internal compass with paper maps.»

«I think I took more like nine or twelve wrong turns... but somehow we made it here.» And it's so easy to shift up now, no wrong turns to make when he's in Erik's arms like this; he presses his mouth against Erik's, warm and soft.

Erik kisses him back, meeting Charles on that same easy footing at first-- but a moment later he's got his hand on Charles's joining spot, and he's kissing Charles hard, all their passion set off into a blaze all over again. It's almost as if they're kissing each other for the first time. Charles can't allay his urgency; the need and hunger are rising up fast. He slides his hands under Erik's tuxedo jacket, presses them flat to Erik's corset vest-- he's very nearly ready to press Erik back into the booth and have his way with him when he feels a twinge of dismay from the waitress. _Damn._

With a heroic amount of effort, he draws back, gentling the kiss down. «Still nominally in public...»

«Then let's get out of public, come on, we waited all this time, can't we just--» Erik looks into Charles's eyes, and Charles feels the flutter of his windcatcher against his chest. «I want you again. I didn't want anything much for so long, I don't know how to handle it. But it feels so good, it's so _right_ with you... I love wanting you this way.»

And after all their effort to think of someplace where they might actually be able to resist each other. They lasted a little longer here than in the hotel room, at least, and Charles can't be sorry for what they're feeling now, it's too amazing. His soulmate wants him-- _Erik_ wants him, and he's happy about it. He flashes Erik a broad smile and slides out of the booth, taking Erik by the hand and pulling him along. «We can always apologize if it's called for. Let's go.»

Erik might be walking a bit awkwardly, but he follows, just as thrilled and happy as Charles feels right now. There's a hint of illicit excitement as they tumble through the door to the gents; Charles looks Erik over, trying to work out what that's all about. Erik's reassured him over and over that there's no one in Pittsburgh, but there's definitely a tinge to Erik's emotions that Charles is reading as "guilty thrill". 

«Everything all right?» he asks, catching Erik around the waist and tilting onto his toes, kissing Erik's cheek.

«Yes, of course, I've just never done this before.» Erik puts his hands on Charles's hips and leans down, pressing soft kisses to Charles's mouth, again and again.

«That's funny, I remember a round or six back at the hotel...»

«In a public restroom,» Erik clarifies, pulling back and giving Charles a sheepish grin. «Well... in a public restroom that wasn't at a club.»

Oh, that explains it... Charles laughs and slides his hands back and forth over Erik's vest, making Erik shiver. «No? Then this is an occasion, we'd better make it good.»

«It's been good with you _every time_ ,» Erik sends, eyes shining. «What do you want me to do now?»

The phrasing catches Charles's attention-- _what do you want_ me _to do_ , not _what do you want to do_ \-- and he's on guard for that sort of thing, so even if it isn't the more dangerous _what do you want to do to me_ , he redirects: «What would you like?»

«Everything. Us. You. Me. Your _mouth_ , again...» Erik grabs Charles up in his arms and kisses him, hot and deep, utterly filthy and delicious, irresistible. Charles's isn't sure whether Erik's trying to kiss him or make him feel well-fucked, just with those rough, eager thrusts of his tongue, and he groans and clings even more tightly to Erik.

It's several long moments before Charles can even pull his thoughts together enough to ask, «Have I mentioned I really like kissing?»

«I noticed!» Erik draws back, his lips wet and swollen, his tongue coming out to trace a path over them as Charles watches.

Charles reels Erik back into his arms, kissing him again. «Did I further mention I really like shameless messy kissing?»

«Not messy enough... you're too coherent.» Erik's mouth curves into a grin right underneath Charles's, and oh, that does it for Charles in the best of ways; he makes an all-new noise, deep in his throat, fierce and starved. Plastering himself against Erik, his hands roam all over Erik's body, groping him, as he backs them both into the stall.

Erik's been hungry for everything all along, but now it's even more pronounced; he's trying not to let their mouths break contact for even an instant, getting his hands onto Charles's arms as they struggle in around the bathroom tissue holder and the toilet itself. The stall door bangs shut and the lock slams into place, even though Charles can easily inventory all four of their hands, all four of them greedily exploring each other's bodies. Erik's ability, then, it must have been, and Charles breaks away to glance at the door. «You're amazing.»

Erik pulls Charles right back into another kiss. «I want you. I want you _so much_. I want _everything_.»

«I want you, too...» Charles takes a breath. What can they do in here and still keep Erik off his knees? He slides his hands up and down Erik's chest, his torso, feeling the ribs of his corset. He's so beautiful in it, though Charles already knows perfectly well it's not the sort of thing he'll be wearing when all is said and done and they're home from the wedding.

Home... he can't think about that now, can't think about Erik going back to Pittsburgh without him. Erik might change his mind, they have a whole week to sort through everything. 

«Tell me something you'd like,» he offers, trying not to make it an order. Guidance, maybe, but not an order.

«We could get creative with the metal,» Erik suggests, drawing back and showing off a nearly-merciless smile. Charles sucks in a breath. That smile promises so much-- he wonders if Erik has any idea what sorts of thoughts it gives Charles.

«How would you suggest...?»

Erik lets go of him entirely and puts his hands up, and just like that, his wrists snap back against the metal wall of the restroom stall, as though-- ah, yes, of course, _magnetized_ there. Charles laughs and plasters himself against Erik, kissing him again.

«That's beautiful,» he sends. «And now what? What would you like to do, while you're here?» Charles isn't at all certain he trusts his own ideas, right now.

«Maybe you could get me off,» Erik sends hopefully. «Please, Charles, it's been ages, more than an hour, we've been good, please get me off, I need you...»

That's a lot of _please_ , but Erik also said _we've been good_ , not _I've been good_. It's enough of a difference that Charles strokes his hands down Erik's vest to his waistband, and says, «Getting you off is a given. I'd like to fuck you yet again--» and when Erik's look turns nakedly hopeful, Charles glances around the stall, wondering how possible it's going to be. Not very, he doesn't think; there simply isn't much room in here for anything like that, and once again, the height difference closes off a number of improvisational possibilities... «But the tidiest thing is going to be blowjobs.»

Pragmatically, Erik agrees, "Well, then, I think that's a plan." The excitement on his eyes nearly has Charles going down right away, but he makes the mistake of looking down at the floor first-- good _grief_. For a moment it almost cuts through the buzz of seeker rush.

But Erik's standing there plastered against the wall waiting for him, magnetized in place, holding himself there for Charles. It's more than inspiring enough, and he comes up on his toes to kiss Erik, reaching to undo his trousers. «Can I read you for that, your ability? How it feels to hold yourself there like that?»

It prompts a low rumble from Erik, nearly a purr. «Yes,» he sends, giving Charles another beautiful smile. He feels so ready, no hesitation at all, just love and the desire to share his ability with Charles, right here, right now.

Charles touches his temple-- it helps him focus, since he's reaching for something deeper and more precise than surface thoughts-- and as soon as he feels it from Erik's side, he presses himself against Erik from shoulders to knees, opening his mouth and gasping hot against his neck. «That's incredible-- there's _so much--_ » 

He can feel everything through a sense he's never had himself, all the metal in the room, the warm familiar curve of the windcatcher against Charles's bare skin, the somewhat flimsy stall walls and door, and the way it feels to Erik right now, all of it a constant sensory awareness. Erik's pulling at the stall wall to hold himself there, but it's delicate-- he can't pull too hard or he'll rip it out of the floor, he has to reinforce the bolts that go through the linoleum and into the concrete. All the same, magnetizing himself to a surface is very much like calling an object to him, it's just exerting that pull on a constant basis, having to be aware of it all the while Charles is kissing him. It's going to be quite the challenge for him to keep himself stuck to the wall while Charles has Erik's cock in his mouth.

And that's utterly delightful; Charles rubs his cheek against Erik's neck. «Beautiful. That's so beautiful, thank you for sharing it with me...»

It breaks Erik's resolve, sending him forward to catch Charles up in an embrace. «It's fantastic, I feel so much more of it now, ever since we met, it's all coming back, I _love_ it--» Charles feels another tug at his windcatcher, but woven into Erik's thoughts, he can feel so much more than that. It's as though Erik's holding something that's a part of him, that's always been a part of him. This pendant that Erik meant for _him_ , all along... Charles was sure he understood what that meant to Erik, but all of those thoughts and associations were nothing, not compared to the way the windcatcher feels when he's touching it through Erik's ability. «And you're wearing this and it's _mine_ , and I can feel it, I can feel it every second that you're wearing it...»

Charles nuzzles Erik's shirt collar aside and bites his shoulder; Erik tightens his hold around Charles's waist, gasping. « _Good_ ,» Charles sends. «Do you feel this?» he asks, tracing a fingertip around the metal buckle of Erik's belt. It's hardly on par with the windcatcher, but it may have positive associations all the same, given its location, if nothing else.

Sure enough, Erik hisses in a breath... but he also wriggles back a bit, making Charles look up at him to see what that's all about. «It's good, it's _good_... it almost tickles,» Erik admits, and Charles can feel that now, how the proximity to Erik's lower belly comes close to a ticklish spot. Erik slants a smile Charles's way. «I'm not usually ticklish, but what about you?» And Charles gets the ghost of an imagined sensation, Erik's fingertips skirting up and down his ribs as he focuses on what it would be like to do it, his thoughts transmitting the feeling to Charles's mind.

«Oi!» Charles protests, squirming despite himself. «I can't even bear it if you _think_ of it, I'm that ticklish.»

Erik drops the thought at once, smirking, putting his arms up again. «I thought maybe I could play with your mutation, if you were going to play with mine...»

«Just so long as you realize that sort of playing may end with a flailing elbow catching you somewhere that you would rather an elbow not be!»

Hands magnetized to the stall wall, Erik sends, «I trust you.»

Charles can't imagine there will ever be a time when that sentiment fails to disarm him completely. He seals himself against Erik and kisses him; he can feel anticipation and joy from Erik, like nothing Charles ever felt from him while they were apart. «It makes me so happy when you feel this way, you have no idea.»

«I think I have some idea!» Erik presses forward a sense of belonging so profound that Charles can only bask in that emotion, reaching to lace his fingers with Erik's, holding on.

That move sends a fresh pulse of excitement through Erik; Charles is so open to him right now that he's kissing Erik again almost ahead of his conscious intent. This time, when he reaches to open Erik's belt, his touch is firm and anything but ticklish.

«Feels good,» Erik thinks. Charles gets a sense of his concentration, and then Charles's own zipper tugs down. «I feel that, too...»

«We have so many possibilities to play with!» Charles answers gleefully. «Your eleven-inch friend back home is just the start of it.» He quickly peels off his jumper vest and drapes it over the partition wall, undoes enough buttons to reach the windcatcher and strokes the outer ring. Erik leans back, showing throat. Charles pauses, hoping for some clarification, something that tells him if Erik's really slipping-- he'll check in, another moment or two, he just needs to _look_ , he just needs to see Erik, just like this, just for another few seconds...

Erik smiles, though. «My _friend_ ,» he sends, warm humor coming through to Charles's mind and washing Charles over with relief. He's not lost. He's right here, with Charles, joking with him. «I was thinking of _you_.»

Charles slips his hands under Erik's waistband, kissing Erik's neck lightly, not biting this time despite every temptation in the world to use his teeth again. «I was thinking of you, too. Every hour, every day...» He slides down Erik's body, down to the floor, to his knees, taking Erik's trousers down with him. This is going to be the round where he takes his time, shows Erik just how good it can be between them, he's _sure_ of that... he's sure right until he hits the ground with Erik's bare cock and lean, muscular thighs in front of his face, and then he's a little addled by his own greed. He reaches for Erik, one hand on his thigh, the other curving around the base of his cock, his groan muffled as he takes Erik in.

And it's so good, the weight and feel of it: Erik's cock is, Charles has had enough experience to know, _exceptional_. Charles has always tried not to allow himself to reduce sexual partners to any one feature, but... the truth is, he's taken more than a few partners home, or to men's rooms, or to back rooms of clubs, just to get their trousers down and feel their-- all right, use the word-- _huge_ cocks filling his mouth. It's even better with Erik, the stretch in his jaw, the tightness of his lips around Erik's width, and Charles pushes himself forward, taking in more and more, refusing to settle for anything less than every last inch of him.

In response, Erik's beginning to thrust forward, just the tiniest hints of motion starting at his hips. «I love you,» he sends, «I _need_ you, yes, please...»

Charles pins his hips against the wall; the pace is his to set, he's the one on his knees. Of course he's going to give Erik everything he's got, but better to have it happen at the right tempo... he wants to give Erik time to open his eyes again, a chance to watch Charles's head bobbing. The surge of near-frantic lust he feels through the bond tells him Erik's done just that, looking down and watching Charles taking him in, more and more... and _more_ , God, _yes_ , he's perfect, _this_ is perfect. 

«You taste fantastic, better than anything,» Charles sends.

For a moment Charles wonders if Erik's going to magnetize his hips to the stall as well, but instead he keeps moving them, making Charles pin them all the harder. He feels the strain in his forearms as Erik keeps trying to move, but it's welcome, so satisfying to hold Erik this way. He feels that same satisfaction from Erik right now, and it makes him redouble his efforts, determined now to get more of Erik down his throat yet.

«You _feel_ fantastic, I didn't know this could be so good... God, Charles... I love you.»

Charles wonders for a moment how many blowjobs Erik could possibly have had, if he's so shocked by how good this one is-- obviously Charles has had his fair share of practice, but _still_. The idea that there haven't been many-- that it's nearly just him, that he can practically redefine this gorgeous act in Erik's mind-- sets him into action, determined now to make sure this is something Erik remembers every day, even after-- even after the new year's come and gone.

«This isn't the half of it,» Charles promises, not missing a beat. «Someday I'm going to really draw it out for you, maybe while you're pinned on your metal dildo, caught between which you want more of, that or my mouth…»

Another tremendous rush of lust, Erik's feelings so heated in their bond. «How could I _choose_ \-- oh God, your mouth, your _mouth_ , suck me, please, fuck, I need you...»

It's not as though Charles ever planned to resist that, but he lavishes more attention on Erik's cock anyway, sucking him gently for a few strokes, and then harder, more insistent, _demanding_ , and finally he steadies the base of Erik's cock with his hand and relaxes his throat. This isn't the best angle for it, but it's worth every effort-- and it does take an effort, it isn't easy, but _oh, yes_ , he's there, swallowing around Erik's cock, getting him all the way down.

Above him, Erik goes perfectly still; Charles can't even hear him breathing. His thoughts come through, faint and awed: «Charles... you... I haven't... _never_...»

_Never_ , that just keeps ringing through Charles's mind, _never, never, never_ , he's the only one, the only person who's ever known Erik this way, this intimately, the only one who's ever felt Erik's cock this deep inside his throat, the only one who's ever had this part of Erik, this strength, this vulnerability, Erik's cock _his_ to take and suck and deepthroat, and the wide-eyed wonder he feels from Erik above him is utterly intoxicating.

He tries to take it slowly at first, easing Erik in and out, but of course that doesn't last. Soon enough, he's getting ambitious-- needing more and more of Erik's blissed-out, desperately aroused desire-- and he moves, faster and faster, his own near-crazed lust singing inside him, half choking himself every time he swallows.

Those sounds cut through to Erik, a flurry of concern layered over his thoughts. «--is it okay are you okay _oh God don't stop, please_ , so close, can I--» Charles takes him in, again, stroke after long stroke, sucking when he's got nothing more than the head of Erik's cock in his mouth, nearly lunging for more and swallowing him down fast now, filling his mouth and his throat every time. «-- _Charles!_ Can I come down your throat _oh God_ \--»

«Yes! I want you to--» Charles braces Erik's hips against the wall and gets him all the way down, swallowing-- he can't breathe, doesn't care, _wants_ that, the total commitment to what he's doing, what he's making Erik feel. He wants everything, all of Erik's need and want and lust, heart and body, _all of him_.

Erik's hands drop onto Charles's shoulders, clutching his vest and shirt, and suddenly he's holding Charles at soul's-home-- the shock of the sensation drives a choked cry from Charles. He covers Erik's hand with his own just as Erik starts to come, the stall rattling around them, the door banging wildly, not quite loud enough to drown out Erik's shout.

It's only because this is their sixth... seventh?... time tonight that Charles doesn't come untouched while he swallows Erik down-- and a good thing, since he neglected to take his own trousers down even after Erik unzipped his fly for him. He's painfully hard yet again, and it's only intensified by the fact that he's taken Erik so deep he can't breathe. It's more than worth it, this feels incredible, and Erik's sending him a tremendous amount of adoration, his hand still pressing at soul's-home.

Just when Charles really does need air, Erik's touch lightens, and Charles backs off and leans his head against Erik's thigh and finally breathes, panting, happily dizzy. «I want to do that every day,» he sends with perfect sincerity.

Erik's thoughts are woozy and indistinct, but somewhere in among them, there's a definite reaction of: «Okay!» Charles laughs against the front of his thigh, giddy. His own cock is still hard, he's still aching to come, but the warmth and affection coming through their bond is wonderful. This is just what they needed tonight: a bit _less_ privacy, a place where Erik's just distracted enough that he can stay out of headspace instead of tumbling down. If Charles has to spend his seeker rush in men's rooms to make that happen, he'll do it gladly; he'll manage just fine.

\---

Erik's vision finally clears as Charles rises to his feet; when Charles kisses him, he kisses back, warm and thrilled. Charles is panting-- Erik isn't sure whether that's out of sheer lust, or whether it's because Erik barely let him get a breath, and oh God, that was-- that was-- he can barely taste himself in Charles's mouth, he came so far down his throat. Just thinking it makes him want Charles all over again.

They've been coming together all this time, it's nearly a surprise when he reaches down to Charles's cock and finds him still hard. «You didn't...?» Charles jerks against him, pressing himself firmly against Erik's body, their kiss deepening still further. « _Oh._ »

«Careful, I'm that close--» But Charles is reaching between them as well, hastily taking his trousers down.

They've been doing so well here in the restroom, Erik's been up out of headspace for all of it-- he feels a slight twinge as he thinks about holding Charles so tightly he could hardly catch a breath, about the way Charles looked with his lips against the base of Erik's cock, his nose up against Erik's short curls. It would be one thing if he were thinking about going to his knees because he _belongs_ there, but going in order to even the score? He can do that.

He shoves Charles back against the opposite stall wall and holds him there with all the metal he can muster. Charles wore those beautiful cufflinks Erik made-- the fact that even his everyday casual shirts accommodate cufflinks is both amusing to Erik and thrilling; he can send Charles all the fucking cufflinks he wants, now, and know that Charles is wearing something of _his_ , above and beyond the windcatcher he dreamed of giving to Charles when he was a boy.

And the cufflinks are perfect for this; not enough metal to really pin Charles, just enough to hold him where Erik wants him the most. Charles looks up at Erik, lips parted in a beautiful, reddened smile, and Erik exhales softly, touching Charles's cheek.

«Ready?»

«For anything,» Charles confirms, eyes bright with hunger. Erik leans in for one last kiss, one last quick brush of lips against lips, and then he goes down, knees on cold tile, his hands pushing the hem of Charles's shirt out of the way.

He feels a rush of Charles's excitement as he hits the floor, a hint of pressure against the cufflinks. It takes more concentration than he'd expected to keep them in place, but that's good; maybe it'll keep him from slipping into headspace. «God, yes, do it, anything--»

Erik knows by now that he's got nowhere near the kind of experience Charles does, when it comes to blowjobs, but he's game, and he's eager, and he also knows that can carry someone a long way. He tucks Charles's shirt up, pushes Charles back a little more against the stall wall to hold it in place-- a single line of metallic thread around the hem and he could do that with his ability, too, _damn_ , why don't they have that in all their clothes-- and pushes Charles's trousers and boxers down to his ankles. Charles makes a muffled groan-- Erik looks up and can only grin. Charles is watching, wide-eyed, his lower lip caught between his teeth, as if he's trying to be quiet.

«You can be as loud as you'd like _in here_ ,» Erik thinks, briefly touching his own temple, and Charles loses that grip on his lower lip, gasping out loud.

«You're not being fair at all, you know that? Not the _least_ bit fair, God, how I _want_ you, all of this, _you_ , come on, Erik, please--»

Erik almost loses it himself at that-- Charles, pinned above him, saying _please_ that way... he shouldn't, he's the dom, but Erik wants to hear it, wants to hear so much _more_ of it. He wraps his hand around the base of Charles's cock-- unlike Charles, he has no idea how to deepthroat and doesn't want to ruin this with choking-- but as soon as Charles's cock is steadied, Erik leans in, as eager as he's been all night, swallowing Charles down.

The taste is so good it's almost overwhelming, and Erik realizes all at once-- the first time he's going down on his dom, and it's in a Denny's restroom stall. _God_ , he's utterly shameless-- but of course he is, this is _Charles_ , his soulmate, they've waited so long for this that Erik can only believe he was meant to feel this way. Shameless. Wanton. Eager. He reaches back with his free hand and touches his joining spot, fingering himself there while Charles makes desperate noises above him.

«Look at you, _look_ at you,» Charles sends, thoughts flooding Erik in a warm mental babble, «you're perfect, gorgeous, look at your mouth on me, I can feel everything, I feel what _you_ feel, you love this, you want it so much, Erik, _yes_ \--»

He does. He wants it every bit as much as Charles thinks he does. He wants it enough it feels natural, _right_ , being here on his knees for his dominant. He pushes forward even faster, takes as much of Charles's cock as he can, rubbing at his joining spot again and again... it's so hard not imagining Charles's hand there, pushing him forward, the way Erik pushed Charles forward before...

He's got Charles's hands pinned, he can't give him that precisely-- and the idea of having his air cut off is a little frightening, even now, even with Charles-- but he has another idea, and the instant it flits through his mind, Charles gasps. «Coming, _now_ , oh God, _look_ at you--»

_Look at him._ Erik draws off Charles's cock and makes that little fantasy a reality. He strokes Charles's cock hard, aims him, and it's the most natural thing in the world, watching Charles come, listening to him gasping and moaning above him, feeling the hot streaks of Charles's come as they land on his cheeks, his chin, across his lips.

" _Erik!_ " He feels Charles tug against the cufflink and lets him go; Charles reaches up and grabs the top of the stall wall, grunting as his legs give out for a moment. As Erik looks up at him, Charles just stares, his eyes wide. «I've never been happier to have a good visual memory.»

Erik holds his breath. God, what now-- what does he do now-- does he lick his lips, does he close his eyes, bend his head forward and wait for Charles to touch his joining spot, does he wait for permission to come off his knees, what-- damn it, he could _do_ this, once. He could _be_ this. He could be on his knees and not be worried or frightened, he could be a good sub, the kind of sub Charles would be proud of...

"Erik," Charles whispers. He strokes a hand over Erik's hair. "Erik... darling... look up. I'm here. I'm right here with you."

The world comes rushing back to him; Erik sucks in a breath and jerks backward, shoulders hitting the other stall wall. "I'm all right," Erik says, though he's not, yet; he can't bring himself to get to his feet, he can't look up at Charles. Even here-- even in the bathroom at a fucking Denny's-- he needs to get up, he needs to _get up._ Fuck.

When Charles offers him a hand, Erik takes it, bolting awkwardly to his feet. He flinches, but meets Charles's eyes-- Charles is there for him, patient, cautious.

"You shouldn't have to do this for me," Erik says quietly, drawing his clothes back into place. "You shouldn't have to take care of me like this."

"Erik, if you need me, then taking care of you is _exactly_ what I should be doing." Charles touches his forearm-- careful not to touch Erik's wrist, Erik notices. Fuck that, too. "If it were me-- if I had trouble with headspace, or anything else-- I know you'd be there for me."

Erik can't even imagine what that would be like, a dominant having difficulty with headspace, but he nods all the same. He'd be there for Charles no matter what. It's just galling to think that even after coming here, even after having time to talk and laugh and be close, they're still where they were at the start.

"I need to clean up," Erik says, finally. He can feel Charles's come cooling on his cheeks. "Could you... could I have a second, just to..."

Charles nods, letting Erik's arm go. "Go ahead," he murmurs. "I should do a bit of cleaning up myself. I'll be right here."

Erik doesn't bolt out of the stall, but it's a relief to be out of Charles's line of sight for even a few moments. He can't look at himself in the mirror; he puts his eyes on the sink and keeps them there while he washes his face. His cheeks are burning; his eyes feel glazed, itchy. It's probably just from the late night. He tells himself that a few times before he stands up, grabbing a few paper towels to dry off.

Charles exits the stall, clothes tidied, looking for all the world like he _didn't_ just have amazing sex with his soulmate in a men's room. Erik actually laughs; he glances at his own reflection to see if he did nearly as well. Not a chance. He looks like a man who's been laid very well, and very often, over the course of the night.

His laugh earns a warm smile from Charles, who comes over and strokes Erik's back, between his shoulderblades. "We might get an annoyed look from Mandy," Charles says softly. "Will you mind?"

And this, at least, Erik can answer without conflict. He wraps his arms around Charles's shoulders and says, "Not in the least."


	18. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (9/11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Wednesday and Friday updates this week may not happen because of holidays, but we'll see if we can get one more chapter out this week! Also, it looks like Act II is going to take 10 chapters instead of nine. *g*

Erik's out of practice wearing corset vests, even ones as light as this one. When Pat opens the front door, mostly what he's thinking about is getting upstairs and changing clothes.

"Look at you two," Pat says cheerfully, tugging Erik in for a hug. "Logan's going to be over at noon to pick up the tuxes. We were wondering if we were going to have to send someone after yours. Have you two had breakfast?"

Erik glances back at Charles, who starts to respond and then immediately has to cover his mouth, yawning. "We ate around two. Or four. Or something," Erik explains.

"Then you definitely need to stay for breakfast." Pat raises an eyebrow at Charles. "I hope you'll make sure he eats. Especially over the next few days."

Erik's back stiffens. Whether Pat means it as a handfeeding reference or is just assuming Charles is going to take responsibility for that sort of thing because he's the dominant in their bond... it doesn't really matter. "I'll be fine," he says shortly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to change clothes--"

"Of course you would. Go on inside," Pat says, stepping aside and waving both of them in. She takes their coats on the way, draping them over the top of the mountain of coats on the coat rack already. "Come back down to the dining room when you're ready. We've got enough food to feed an army."

"Thank you," Charles tells her, but he follows right on Erik's heels as Erik comes inside and bolts for his room. Well, the second guest room, anyway; it just happens to be the one he's always stayed in, except for times the Wyngardes were overbooked and he ended up sharing with Jason.

His suitcase and duffel bag are right where he left them, his wallet chain and thick steel watch both on the dresser as well. Erik waves a hand at the door, which closes and locks with just the barest touch of his ability. That gets Charles's attention; he heads back over to the door, gently touching the skeleton key panel. "Is there an actual key around somewhere?"

"Not that I can tell, but it hardly matters for me," Erik says. He slips out of his tuxedo jacket and sighs in relief as he gets the vest unhooked. The metal was nice; the constriction, well... he's been feeling that more and more.

Digging through his suitcase, he comes up with a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a clean pair of boxer-briefs. He glances back over his shoulder at Charles, who's still looking into the lock mechanism. 

"Is it difficult, working a lock like this one?"

"A warded lock?" Erik kicks off his dress shoes and strips out of the socks, too; he doesn't bother coming off his knees as he keeps undressing. Belt, shirt, undershirt... "There's a lever inside, that's all you really have to move." He flicks a fingertip at the door, opening the lock again. "Simple."

"But is it hard to tell which bit to push? I wouldn't imagine you'd be too familiar with the workings, there aren't many warded locks in the States these days." Charles pulls the door open, and Erik quickly grabs for his t-shirt, pulling it on. Charles shuts the door again and looks back at Erik, abashed. "Sorry! I didn't feel anyone out in the hallway..."

Erik comes up to get his tuxedo pants and boxer-briefs off. "It's all right," he begins, but when he's standing there in nothing but a t-shirt, he meets Charles's eyes. Or tries, anyway; Charles's gaze is slipping lower and lower, down over Erik's torso, lower still...

"Charles--"

"You should," Charles begins, swallowing, drying his palms off against his thighs, "they're expecting us downstairs--"

Erik slams the bolt back into place, the sound of the lock echoing through the room, and Charles is across the room in half a dozen steps, one hand sliding under the hem of Erik's t-shirt, the other reaching for soul's-home. Erik groans, pulling Charles close.

«You should dress,» Charles thinks, the hand beneath his shirt moving restlessly down his side, over his waist, his lower back. «You should finish getting dressed...»

«I can dress after,» Erik promises. He reaches behind himself, takes Charles's hand in his... and moves it further down, only letting up when Charles can squeeze Erik's ass, even pinch him. «We could be quiet...»

«Could we?» Charles drags himself back, breathing hard already as he looks into Erik's eyes. «I wouldn't think we'd need to, would we?»

«The soundproofing here isn't what it could be,» Erik sends with a grimace. «It's an old house, it was built in the 1890s.»

«Still!» Charles pauses, head tilting, as though he's listening for any nearby activity. «I don't hear anything...»

«I was next door to Jason and Kurt over Thanksgiving,» Erik sends, rolling his eyes. «Believe me.»

«I believe you,» Charles assures him, biting his lower lip. «I can be quiet if you can.»

«I don't know if I can manage it,» Erik has to admit. «But it's seeker rush, they'd understand...»

Charles dives in for one more soft kiss, but he settles both hands on Erik's hips and holds his ground. «I'm sure they would. But... Erik, I can wait.» Even Erik can feel the lack of conviction in that; as Charles thinks words to him, he slides one hand around to the front of Erik's thigh, and then up, between his legs, cupping Erik's cock in his hand. «All right, that's a total fabrication, I don't think I can wait another moment, what sort of supplies do you have in here...?»

«Nothing! Why do you think I left the Eleven at home?»

«It has a name,» Charles thinks, beaming up at Erik. «I'm becoming more charmed by your friend by the moment.»

«You're terrible,» Erik thinks, leaning forward and stealing a kiss. Charles winds his arms around Erik's neck, kissing Erik with all the enthusiasm they've had since their very first kiss, as if it's all new, again and again. «Terrible... just...» He pulls Charles over to the bed. «There are tissues on the nightstand, we could stroke each other off...»

«Yes,» Charles thinks, angling them so they're on their sides, tugging his shirt and sweater vest up. Erik goes for his belt, his ability jerking at Charles's zipper while he gets the leather end of Charles's belt threaded through the metal buckle-- God, wouldn't it be wonderful if Charles had belts with metal tips, the way all of Erik's do...

«I'll get some,» Charles promises, kissing Erik again and again. «I'll wear all the metal you like, I'll have my buttons replaced--»

«Just get your hands on me,» Erik urges, his own hands searching greedily in Charles's trousers and finding him hard, again, of course. Erik almost groans with satisfaction, and Charles quickly shoves his trousers down a little further, getting them out of the way. «I need you... I _love_ this...»

Charles draws back, and the way he bites his lower lip-- Erik's starting to feel attraction and lust and fondness all rolled up in one, whenever he sees that. «I love it too,» he says, reaching up to cup Erik's cheek in one hand. «But we need you to stay up. Will this work?»

«If we're fast,» Erik promises. He's not sure how to explain it-- here, in this house, surrounded by the closest thing he has to family, he couldn't feel more safe. The Wyngardes have been so good to him over the years-- Pat and Rick and Jason especially, but no one else has ever tried to force him into a role that didn't fit. Especially over these past six months, he's felt closer to them than ever. Here, if he's a sub or unoriented or if he just doesn't know, it's all right.

But the meaning carries across to Charles, and he smiles even more broadly. «I'm glad you feel safe here.»

«I can think of something else I'd like to feel. Something _more_ ,» Erik clarifies, squeezing Charles's cock, moving his left hand down to cup Charles's balls. «I want to feel you when you come. I want to touch you until you come for me.»

Charles lets out a soft, breathy noise, and leans in to kiss Erik again. «When the rush is over, I want to take our time at this!» He moves his hips, though, his cock sliding through the tight circle of Erik's fingers. «I'm starting to feel like a teenager. I should have so much more control than this...»

«There'll be time for control _later_ ,» Erik insists, and as soon as the words are out, he sucks in a breath. «I didn't mean--»

«I know what you meant,» Charles promises, his hand moving down now, from Erik's face to his shoulder, from his shoulder to his waist, from his waist down to his hip... oh, God, closer and closer, so close, Erik spreads his legs apart to make room for Charles's hand. «Right now I can't be sorry about wanting you this much. I just can't.»

«Never,» Erik agrees, capturing Charles's mouth again as he starts to stroke Charles's cock in a fast, tight rhythm. Charles moves his hand to Erik's shaft, stroking all the way up to the head and back down, and God, Erik's so turned on he's leaking already-- better that he never did get his jeans on, he supposes. The slickness of his pre-come eases the way for Charles, and in no time Charles has one hand on Erik's cock and the other up on Erik's joining spot, and Erik's burying his noises against Charles's mouth, moaning against his lips, barely keeping up his own rhythm as Charles sends shocks of pleasure running through him.

«I love you...» It hangs in their minds, between them, and Erik's not sure if he said it first or second, but he knows he means it every bit as strongly as Charles does. «I always have,» and that's Erik, he's sure that's him, but he feels it echoed back to him through Charles's thoughts, too. «Yes, Charles, _please_ \--»

There it is, the danger zone. Erik breaks the kiss and stares into Charles's eyes, not letting himself flinch away or lower his gaze. Charles is so many things to him; he doesn't have to force Charles into any one role, either. He's Erik's soulmate and his partner and his _lover_ , above everything else, and Erik holds that gaze, sends love through the bond and mind-to-mind as best he can, until finally he bites his lip against a shout, coming in Charles's hand.

«Beautiful. I love you _so much_.» Charles licks the sting of that bite off Erik's mouth. «I'm close, just a little further, if you would, love, please...?»

Erik strokes Charles just a little faster-- he's learning what Charles likes, every time, and it's wonderful. Hearing _please_ in his mind sets his heart racing a little-- Charles must have meant it to keep them on even footing, trying to take that word out of the realm of power exchange, it's thoughtful, but it still makes Erik desperate to see Charles come, and see him come _hard_. «I love you,» he sends. The next thing that comes to mind-- _I'm yours_ \-- he manages to hold back, and instead tells Charles, «We're together now. We belong to each other. I want you to come, I want it so much...»

Charles's hand clamps down hard on Erik's joining spot, and when Charles climaxes, Erik feels pleasure radiating through that spot, almost enough to send him into another orgasm of his own. He always thought his trashy romance books were exaggerating about that kind of thing. His eyes are nearly crossed by the time he's stroked Charles through the last of it, but he's smiling all the same.

«The way you touch me...» Erik turns his head back and forth, rubbing his joining spot against Charles's palm. «I could almost feel you there.»

«Really?» Charles looks delighted, and he kisses Erik again, and again, his happiness obvious, even if Erik can't feel it yet for himself. «I hope we'll have that again. I hope we'll have it again soon.»

«Maybe the only way we'll get it back is if you keep touching me there,» Erik sends hopefully, and Charles laughs along with him.

"Maybe," Charles murmurs aloud. "Well, it doesn't much matter if that's wishful thinking, does it? It'll be wonderful either way."

"It will." Erik draws back a little, and stretches out an arm for the tissue box-- the holder's metal, and he tightens the sides of it against the cardboard box inside, floating it over to the bed for them.

Charles grins when he sees it. "Are you usually in this room?" As he cleans himself up, he glances around a little more, and it's true-- almost all the little things in this room are metal. The tissue holder, the alarm clock, the lamp, everything metal or at least with enough metal on it for Erik to sense.

"Almost always. I think the metal _is_ for me, but I've never asked." Finished with his own cleanup, Erik passes a hand down Charles's side before climbing out of bed to claim his forgotten clothes.

"I love that they'd do that for you," Charles says, sitting up, putting his clothes back in order. "I'll redecorate the whole townhouse in metal if you'd like that."

Erik's heart thumps in his chest as he looks at Charles-- who's wincing as he threads his belt on again.

"Too soon," Charles says softly.

"It might be Pittsburgh," Erik tells him, kneeling down to get his boots on. Charles's lips part as he watches, and-- God, Erik _wishes_ he could be doing this as a tease, wishes it could be another way to flirt with his dom. But he has to stand up as soon as he's finished; he smooths his hands down his jeans and reaches out for his wallet chain, catching it out of the air and attaching it to his right belt loop. "But when I come to New York, anything metal you've got, I'm sure I'll love."

Charles steps over to him and all but throws himself into Erik's arms, hugging him solidly around the waist. «Thank you,» he sends, face pressed to Erik's chest.

Erik strokes Charles's back and kisses the top of his head, nuzzling at his hair. «For...?»

«For making it a 'when'.»

«It's always been 'when',» Erik sends, holding Charles, trying to focus on a sense of reassurance and certainty. «I don't know when the time is going to be right to make those changes, but I want to be with you. Always.»

Charles tilts his head back and smiles at him, so brilliant it nearly makes Erik's knees weak. If they stay in here much longer, he'll be on the floor, there's no doubt in his mind about that.

"Breakfast?" he asks. "If you aren't sick of pancakes by now, that is."

"Do you think Pat might have tea?" Charles shudders a little. "The pancakes I wouldn't mind, but I don't think I could bear more coffee..."

"We're not in a Denny's anymore," Erik laughs. "Rick made Pat buy him a cappuccino machine last year. They make good coffee."

"Oh! Well, anything caffeinated, at this point," Charles says, and he laughs, too-- but it turns into a yawn. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit addled, I blame the lack of sleep."

"And the seeker rush," Erik murmurs, stroking gently up and down Charles's arm.

Charles's eyes light as he reaches to the back of Erik's neck and pulls him down for another kiss. «That, too.»

\---

Breakfast with the Wyngardes is an adventure, of course-- there are still so many of them here. Charles wasn't certain whether it would be breakfast for four or breakfast for fourteen.

The answer is actually eight. Pat and Rick; Susan and Chris, and their two children, Emily and Ben-- Ben, Charles remembers from last night, is the six-year-old mutant with the climbing ability, while Emily is fourteen, and so enthralled by her new iPhone 3G that she barely glances up to say hi. "She's playing Bejeweled," Ben says. "I have a Nintendo DS, it's got _way_ better games." The last two are a pair of siblings in their early to mid twenties, a dom named Dennis and his sister Janine.

Fortunately, Charles is excellent with names, and it's only a few moments' work to explain that he isn't good with body language or vocal nuance, that he's a telepath and it's easier for him to read moods and surface feelings.

In any gathering of strangers, he expects a few responses of total revulsion and some outright refusals, but to his pleased surprise, almost everyone nods and tells him that it's fine.

«You're in the heart of the pro-mutant side of the family,» Erik tells him, with a dark look at Dennis, the lone dissenter-- Erik makes sure they're seated as far from him as possible, even scooting the metal folding chairs further away with his ability. «Pat's been vocal about supporting mutant rights forever, she and Rick are used to psionics, obviously; Susan and Chris are new to it, with Ben's mutation manifesting so recently, but they're trying; Janine--» Janine is a young woman with a purple streak in her hair and a pierced lip, wearing a shirt that reads PANORIENTED, and Charles can feel all of Erik's warmth and fondness for her just from the way he thinks her name. «Janine is lovely. Dennis, we're stuck with, he's her brother.»

Dennis held up both hands when Charles explained his ability and shook his head; Charles quickly walled him off and nodded, with his usual, "Please excuse me if I seem to behave oddly at all. It's not personal, I just find it difficult sometimes to relate without my ability." Even now, Dennis seems a little twitchy at the other end of the table; when Charles glances back at him, he bolts for the kitchen. Erik has a fork in his hand, and if it's not Charles's imagination, the tines look sharper and pointier than they did initially.

«Erik, it's fine, really,» Charles says, touching the back of Erik's hand. «I've heard far worse, this is nothing.»

«You shouldn't have to hear any of that bullshit at all,» Erik nearly growls, but he sets the fork down. Susan is trying to get his attention, asking about the votive holders and the rings, and Ben, at Charles's other side, is trying to hang a spoon off his nose.

"I can stick to walls, why can't this stick to _me_ ," Ben pouts.

Charles laughs. "Well, it depends on how your ability functions," he says. "Whether it's friction-based or involves something specific to your grip or is a focused form of telekinesis..."

"I know that word!" Ben says proudly. "It means like when you move stuff with just thinking about it." He waves his hand-- rather theatrically, leaving no doubt where he picked up that gesture-- and nearly crosses his eyes, evidently trying to lift the salt shaker; when it doesn't budge, he pokes it with his finger and sticks out his lower lip. "I never have." His sulky look deepens. "Even if I could I prob'ly wouldn't be allowed. I'm not even supposed to climb doors, or walls with pictures on them, or people ever..."

"And who was climbing all over Kurt and Jason at the wedding?" Susan reminds him.

"Kurt said it was okay!"

"You're still not supposed to climb people, and you know it, young man!"

As Ben settles down, food starts coming out from the kitchen. Pat wasn't joking when she said there was enough to feed an army; dishes are passed, pancakes taken off giant stacks, there are waffles, fresh fruit, and Pat offers to get Charles a bowl of oatmeal from the slow cooker in the kitchen. Charles does get his tea, not quite the perfect cup of Earl Grey, but very welcome after all that harsh acidic coffee. He's sipping at it, listening to Ben talk about all the things he's not allowed to climb, when Dennis comes back into the room.

Dennis's arrival certainly gets Erik's attention-- then again, it gets everyone else's attention as well, because he's made himself a hat out of foil, and he grins over at Charles as he sits down to finish his breakfast. "I thought this might take the pressure off," he says, lips still curved up. It seems as if he might be joking-- of course, barred from reading him, Charles can't be anything close to sure of that-- but all his tinfoil hat is getting him from the rest of the table is a lot of eyerolls and a few outright groans.

For his part, Erik's furious, and the mood from Pat is almost as severe. She's the first to speak: "Dennis Alan Wyngarde, that is _completely_ out of line--"

"It's just a joke!" Dennis says immediately, holding up both hands. "Kidding! It's like that old Twilight Zone episode, you know, _Someone At This Table Is A Mutant_ \--"

"Three people at this table are mutants," Erik growls, "and you've never been this much of an asshole about it before--"

"Whoa," Chris says, pointing over at Ben. "Little pitchers and all, Erik."

"No, it's okay," Susan cuts in, glaring at Dennis. "He's just saying what most of us are thinking."

"Actually," Charles clears his throat, "I'm afraid it's not an effective barrier. Tinfoil does nothing to shut out telepathy at all, and in fact it's a bit more challenging to block you when you make yourself that conspicuous, as it's so--" He tries for an apologetic look. "Well, for lack of a better word, ridiculous."

"I can think of a _lot_ of better terms," Erik says, but after a quick look at Ben and then at Chris, he says, "but I won't say them out loud. And that's aluminum foil, not tin."

"Aluminium, of course," Charles says; he expects he'll need to get accustomed to identifying metals accurately and literally, no mistaking aluminium for tin, or nickel for chrome. Somehow those words actually break through Erik's fury, and Erik turns to him with a fast, fond smile. Curious, Charles reaches out to rest a hand on Erik's shoulder.

"I'm still getting used to your accent," Erik admits, leaning in. "Aluminium..." He says it with the additional syllable, wrapping his tongue around it as though getting used to its shape, and now his attention's quite firmly off Dennis and his absurd foil hat.

"Awwwww," Janine says. "Newlyfounds. That's so sweet!"

It's not quite accurate, but as Erik leans in for a quick, gentle kiss, Charles decides it isn't an impression he needs to correct. He draws back before either one of them can get out of line, though the slightly glazed look on Erik's face makes Charles wonder if he should have cut it off even sooner. He touches the back of Erik's hand and smiles at him, and Erik shakes himself, sitting back in his chair. «All right?»

«Fine. You'd think what we did upstairs would have taken the edge off.»

«I can't really complain about the edge not being off completely,» Charles has to admit. «Hopefully by the time tonight rolls around, we'll be ready for more privacy...»

"Does this mean you're going to be a sub now?" Ben asks Erik, which makes Erik sit bolt upright, Chris flinch, and Susan groan.

"Ben, that's private," Susan starts-- it has the feel of something she's said to him many, many times.

But Erik's answering, too, with, "It's a work in progress," and that makes Charles blink at him.

«Is that what we're calling it?»

"Erik's not oriented," Janine calls, down from her end of the table. "Ben, it's okay when people aren't just doms or subs, you know? Some people are unoriented, like Erik, and some people are panoriented, like me, and--"

"And some people are like Kurt and Jason and they trade!" Ben fills in. He looks solemnly at Erik. "Maybe you could trade."

Erik opens his mouth and then closes it again; he ends up shoving a bite of pancakes into his mouth the next time he opens it, possibly to give himself something to do other than answer. Ben's looking at Charles and Erik as though expecting to get _something_ out of the two of them, though, so Charles steps in and says, "Maybe!"

There's a snort and a rustle of tinfoil-- _aluminium_ foil-- from the end of the table, but Charles ignores that. The choking sound Erik makes is harder to overlook. Under the table, Charles presses his foot against Erik's. «I wouldn't want to rule anything out.»

Recovering, wiping his chin, Erik sends back, «I'm a _terrible_ dom.»

Once again, Charles has to swallow down a burst of jealousy-- how would he know that unless he'd tried-- and does his best to carry on as though his hackles aren't raised. This is becoming tiresome; maybe he needs to reread some of his texts on the topic of dominant possessiveness and how to deal with it in healthy ways. «I'm not much for submission myself, but perhaps we'd click that way if we tried. It would certainly be an inventive way to deal with our orientation issues.»

« _My_ orientation issues,» Erik sends back, «and you have to be joking. I can't stay off my knees around you for ten seconds, how on Earth could you possibly expect me to top?»

He feels agitated, and Charles reaches up and strokes his shoulder, his thumb close to the worn collar of his t-shirt. «All right, I don't think it's very _likely_ , but how old is he, six? I don't want to discourage his flexibility.»

That seems to have been persuasive. Erik does his best to tone down his incredulity, and sends back, «Fair enough.» To Ben, he says, "Whatever happens with our orientations, we're very happy to be together."

"That's the most important part," Ben says seriously, nodding.

"Out of the mouths of babes," Pat sighs.

"I'm not a _baby_! I'm six! I'm going to be _seven_!"

"Oh? When's that?"

"Tomorrow," Ben says, and for some reason that makes him turn to his parents. "Pleeeeease, it says when you're seven you can go, you _promised_..."

"Is it even going to be open?" Chris asks; there's a note of hope in his voice, so clearly he's hoping that whatever 'it' is won't be open after all. "It's the holidays, still..."

"I know," Ben mutters, "everybody _always_ forgets my birthday." He looks up at Erik. "Except Erik! Maybe _that_ could be my birthday present. Could Erik take me?" Back to his parents; Charles is grateful for his multi-track mind just for the sake of keeping up. "Please?"

"Take him where, exactly?" Erik asks.

"The climbing gym," Susan moans, in exactly the same tone she might have used to say, _the morgue_.

Charles can't help laughing. "That's a brilliant idea! If he were in a harness and on a climbing rope, he'd be as safe as one can possibly be while climbing up a wall."

"See?" Ben turns pleading eyes on his parents-- he seems to have quite a collection of them. "If Erik's dom thinks it's safe--"

"Erik's _soulmate_ ," Janine calls.

"Charles," Charles adds helpfully.

"Then can I go with Erik and his soulmate _please_ ," Ben rushes out.

"Honey, I think they're going to be very busy this week, I don't know if they'll have time--"

«What do you think?» Charles asks quickly, brushing Erik's hand with his. «It might be nice to have something to get us out and about now and then. And I'd love a chance to help Ben with his mutation.»

Erik tilts his head, his emotions slowly growing warmer and warmer, a smile spreading across his face. «Have you ever been to a climbing gym?»

«No, have you?»

«Jason climbs, it's how Ben knows about climbing gyms in the first place.»

It's not particularly reasonable for Charles to wish it could be something they could do for the first time together; still, he fords on with, «Then you can show both of us how it's done.»

"We'd love to," Erik says out loud. "Emily, would you like to join us?"

She looks up and starts to answer, but Ben cuts in with, "She just wants to spend the whole vacation with her _emmmmmmfriend_. I bet she's texting him right now!"

Emily swats Ben. "I was _not_ ," she says. She turns back to Erik. "I don't like heights," she says. "But thank you."

"I can still go, though, right?" Ben asks his parents.

They exchange a look, but finally Chris says, "Yes, you can go."

Ben squeals and manages to fling a knife off the table. It hovers in the air instead of hitting the floor, and Erik floats it back down beside Ben's plate. " _Wicked_ ," Ben says, "do it again!"

He flips a fork off the table before Susan and Chris can corral him, but Erik catches that, too, and reaches out for Charles's hand, so happy it's almost a tangible thing between them. Charles squeezes Erik's hand and smiles at him, and smiles, and smiles.

\---

"I'm really sorry about Dennis," Janine says later, flopping down next to Charles on one of the sofas in the family room. It's a bit of a literal wake-up call; he was sinking into the soft cushions and growing terribly drowsy until she bounced next to him, adding, "It's not actually about you."

"It isn't a problem. Truly," Charles tries. After a leisurely breakfast and lingering conversation, a few of the Wyngardes as well as Erik helped clear the table and set to work on the dishes; Dennis was among them, and Charles has felt a bit of low-grade grumbling through the bond ever since. Charles tried to help, but Pat shooed him out of the kitchen. Charles has a feeling Erik's going through a bit of the third degree in there, but overall, Erik's emotions are warm; he's felt soothed and comforted since they arrived. It's worth anything to Charles to have Erik feel that way, even though part of him can't help wishing they'd been able to work out their issues on their own without resorting to having Erik's chosen family nearby for immediate support.

"It _is_ a problem when he's a jerk--" Janine insists.

"Well, the foil hat was a bit much, but really, that sort of reaction isn't uncommon at all. He was quite a bit nicer than many people I've run into."

"Then the people you've run into are jerks, too," Janine says.

It doesn't seem like it would be very fruitful to try explaining that it isn't that cut-and-dried, that in his natural unguarded state he'd violate the privacy of everyone around him. Janine is young, and has managed to be very vocal about role equality and gender equality and atypical-orientation rights even in the brief time Charles has been around her; he can feel her stubbornness around this topic, and suspects that even if he's talking about his own mutation, she'd protest anything he said about _him_ being the one who needs to accommodate other people. Charles goes back to the first thing she said. "I'm sorry, what did you mean-- it isn't actually about me...?"

"You're not reading him, so I guess it's not coming across, huh?" Janine asks, and quickly goes on, "He's had a thing for Erik forever."

"Ah," Charles manages, barely. After laying claim to-- well, after _making love to_ Erik as many times as he's done, the fact that he can still feel all those absurd cave-dom instincts swelling up just at the _mention_ of someone else's interest in Erik is really quite embarrassing.

"Obviously with Jason around, he was never going to make a move, like, Jason's family, and he saw Erik first, you know?"

"Right," Charles says weakly. He stifles the urge to ask about Erik and Jason's holiday sleeping arrangements _before_ Kurt came into the picture. Erik mentioned early on that he and "his best friend" scened, now and then, platonically, and of course that's Jason. And Jason's father had to clarify how many rooms they needed at Thanksgiving. And apparently the rest of Jason's family, even the extended family, thought Jason and Erik were... something...

"Then Jason goes and gets engaged, and Dennis has been, like, trying to figure out how to hit on Erik for the last month, except then you. Congratulations, by the way."

Charles can't help but smile at that. "Thank you." The urge to go into the kitchen and drape himself prominently all over Erik will pass in a few seconds, he's sure. In no more than a minute or two, anyway.

"So yeah-- pretty sure the whole tinfoil hat thing was just so you don't read anything he thinks about Erik." She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Hello! He's got his own soulmate out there somewhere! And, I mean, Erik's great and all, but he's _so_ not actually Dennis's type."

Now that's a relief. Although Charles can't imagine how Erik wouldn't be _anyone's_ type... "No? What would that be?"

Janine waves a hand. "Pretty, vacant, subby..."

The only one of those that even remotely describes Erik is the first, and Charles would definitely call him handsome long before he'd use the word _pretty_. He grins, relaxing back against the couch cushions. "That's definitely not Erik."

Charles has just a moment to be pleased and relieved before realizing that Janine's taken on a more intent air, meeting his eyes and not breaking eye contact. "And that part's okay? The not-so-subby part."

His smile feels more subdued now, but he tries to ensure his expression is reassuring as he says, "We're sorting it out."

"Yeah, I heard what he said, before... it's a 'work in progress', he said." Janine raises an eyebrow. "But he's been so much happier since he started identifying as unoriented." Charles opens his mouth to answer that, though he has no idea what precisely he can say, but Janine barrels on, "Look, I know not everybody dreams about being with someone who has an off-spectrum orientation. But Erik's a wonderful guy. I hope that's something you can accommodate. He's worth it."

"I know." Charles hesitates for a moment, but finally says, "While we were apart, I thought perhaps orientation was a reason we might've been-- delayed in finding one another; so I'd considered that he might be dominant, or unoriented. I'm confident we can make it work."

Janine's emotions all blur into a strong sense of relief. Feeling that makes Charles glad, too; for all the hurt and loneliness he felt from Erik in that awful first encounter, Erik's had people who care about him. He still has them. "That's so good to hear," she says.

"I've been teaching concordance, it's definitely something I try to emphasize in my classes. No one-size-fits-all solutions, that sort of thing." He nods at her shirt. "Panorientation is something I make sure to cover, as distinct from switching."

"Oh my God, that's awesome," Janine says instantly, and then seems to catch herself, "Wait-- you teach concordance?"

Charles nods again. "At Elion College, it's a community college in the CUNY system in New York."

Under any other circumstances, Charles would interpret Janine's shift in mood as some sort of-- attraction? Surely not, though. "Wow. Nice," she says.

"It's not quite what I expected to be doing, but I've been enjoying it," Charles offers.

Janine's smile shows off her teeth for just a moment before she gets it under control. Oh, hell, that _is_ attraction, what on Earth is Charles meant to do about that...? A year ago, sensing that sort of interest, he'd either flirt with her, or gently demur and leave the conversation. But in this case, it would probably embarrass Janine to even acknowledge it that much. She's already much less comfortable than she was just a few minutes ago.

"Um, that sounds..." Janine hunts for a word, finally settling on, "Nice. Fun. Nice."

«Are you quite sure no one needs my help in the kitchen?» Charles sends to Erik, getting back a puzzled feeling in return. «Only I think there might be some awkwardness developing here in the family room, and if you're not busy enough to need an extra hand or two, perhaps they could spare you and you could come rescue me?» Meanwhile, to Janine, he goes on, "It is, mostly. Some parts more than others. I didn't anticipate quite so much pestering. I think some of them text emails to me from their phones as they're leaving an exam, already asking when the scores will be posted."

He feels Erik before Erik reaches them, and then he gets the lovely sensation of Erik bending over the back of the couch, draping himself over Charles and tucking his cheek next to Charles's as he slips his arms around Charles's neck. "Hello there," he murmurs, nuzzling Charles's cheek. Now in jeans and a distressed t-shirt, Erik is no less devastating than he was in a tux. Better yet, some of his sharpness is eased, his face truly relaxed, his straight, expressive brows for the moment level and unlined, his voice light. "Janine, hello, how's it going?"

"Good!" Janine says, and Charles can feel her relief; he has some of his own, too. "Charles was just telling me about, um, work. So are you," she points at Erik, "moving to New York," and she points at Charles, "or are you moving to Pittsburgh?"

Behind him, Erik stiffens, though his tone stays conversational. "Still haven't decided."

Charles rests his hands on Erik's arms. "Could be somewhere else altogether. I lived here in Boston for a bit."

"So did I." Erik seems to relax again, and with relaxation comes the intoxicating buzz of their rush, all over again; he nuzzles Charles's temple, and Charles feels Erik's arousal beginning to build.

He bites his lip. «We're not going to last long in public at this rate.» "Just a summer for you, wasn't it? How did you like it?"

"It was nice. I'm enjoying it more this trip." Erik trails a fingertip back and forth across Charles's chest. Even through three layers of fabric, Charles feels as if Erik's leaving a heated path behind. «Maybe we could find somewhere to make out, just for fifteen minutes...»

"I was wondering if some of the places I used to go when I was here for university are still around." Charles is trying to keep his voice steady, not that Erik's making it easy for him. "I keep forgetting to check when I have the laptop handy-- I'm not getting a very good signal here on my phone."

Amusement comes through to him from Erik, who sends, «I'm all bent over and saying 'fifteen minutes to make out' and you're thinking of your cell phone signal.» He stands slowly, stroking Charles's chest and shoulders on the way up, and nods to Janine. "I'll see you in a bit," he says, and to Charles, adds, «I'll be up in my room.»

Charles is tempted to drop his face into his palm, but he manages to refrain. «I _was_ trying to make a polite excuse to duck out, darling. Not that it's going to be at all convincing now!» All the same, he tells Janine, "I'm going to fetch the laptop and see about looking that up."

He's not quite out of earshot when Janine turns to Susan and says, "They lasted almost three hours! I'm impressed." Both of them dissolve into laughter, and Charles all but flies up the stairs, catching up to Erik at the bedroom door and plastering himself against Erik's back.

«Fifteen minutes, what do you suppose we can do in fifteen minutes,» Charles thinks, coming up on his toes to kiss the back of Erik's neck.

Erik groans. «Not much unless we get out of the hall!» But he's already swinging the door open, pulling Charles inside.

Downstairs, Erik said _make out for fifteen minutes_ , but the instant they're in private, it seems Erik has other ideas. Charles is more than willing to go along with them, especially when Erik drops to his knees and starts unbuckling Charles's belt. «Are you sure, is this all right,» Charles babbles out, running his fingers over Erik's hair, feeling the buzzed-down strands soft against his fingertips. «You'll come up when you're done, it'll be my turn next--»

«I'll come up,» Erik promises, already working on Charles's zipper. «Don't think about it now, I'm fine, I'm all right, just let me have this, let me have you, I want you so much--»

«You know I feel the same,» Charles thinks, just as Erik finally gets Charles's trousers and pants down and outright dives onto Charles's cock, sucking and swallowing him down. If it weren't for seeker rush, Charles wouldn't even have had time to get hard yet; he gasps now, hands reaching for Erik's joining spot, drawing him further down.

Erik starts with his hands on Charles's hips, and Charles listens to what Erik's motions are telling him-- his hands tighten when Charles starts to thrust too quickly, and Charles waits for Erik to adjust, to decide how deeply he wants to take Charles's cock. But soon enough, Erik's not trying to slow Charles down, he's drawing Charles in further, and it's all Charles can do to keep up without-- oh, God--

«Do it,» Erik thinks at him, «do it, go hard, I want you to, please...»

Charles groans aloud and lets Erik have him-- thrust after thrust, he's filling Erik's mouth, and then Erik surges forward, lets Charles push in deeper, he's-- oh, _yes_ , Charles can feel Erik's throat closing around the head of his cock, and he wants, he _wants_ this, he can feel Erik's urgency and desire threatening to overwhelm both of them, he's never needed _anyone_ the way he needs Erik. «I love you,» he sends, «I need you, you're so good, you're so good like this, I love this...»

The next time Erik draws back for a breath, he looks up at Charles, all his focus narrowed to a single point: _Charles_ , and... giving Charles what he wants...

«Erik,» Charles sends, reaching down, putting a hand on Erik's shoulder, carefully easing away. He's close, but after this much sex, even the relentless need of seeker rush isn't powerful enough to spur him on when he feels it's not right. Charles can see the way things are going, where Erik's going to be if they continue. Erik licks his lips, but he straightens, his hands sliding behind his back-- damn it, there they are.

This isn't a restroom stall, though, it's a bedroom, there's plenty of room for Charles to kneel down beside Erik. He can come down, and put his hands on Erik's shoulders, and look him in the eyes. «Erik. Are you still with me? Are you with me?»

It cuts through some of Erik's fog, and he reaches up, gripping Charles's shoulders almost too tightly. "Goddamnit," Erik shoves out, " _fuck_ , I was almost-- I'm here, I'm right here," and he launches himself at Charles, kisses him so hard their teeth knock together for an awkward moment.

But he feels like he's truly here again, his mood rich and slightly angry and fully present, and really, as close as Charles got, kissing could be enough-- kissing could easily be enough, if Erik just held onto him like this, kissed him, he's close, he's almost there-- «Erik!»

Erik reaches out for him, wraps his hand around Charles's cock, and that's it-- two strokes and Charles is done for, clutching at Erik's shoulders and gasping against his mouth. He reaches for Erik's fly, too, but Erik draws back, shaking his head. "I can't," he gasps out. "Not-- not here, I can't, I won't come back up if I-- if it's like this."

Charles is still a little winded and shaken, but he nods. "All right," he says, resting his forehead against Erik's shoulder for a moment. "Do you... is there a way we could, then?"

"I think--" Erik gently presses Charles back, and just like that, he's climbing to his feet, and where that puts Charles's line of sight-- well, it's clear Erik's body hasn't forgotten what they were just doing, even if he couldn't feel Charles's ecstasy through the bond to send him over the edge, too. He holds a hand out, though, and Charles takes it, coming to his feet and stumbling back a few steps to the bed. "I think... I'd like to wait. If that's all right."

"Of course it's all right," Charles says. Erik floats the tissues over again to wipe his other hand clean, sitting down next to him. Charles hooks his arm around Erik's, leaning companionably against him. "Erik, whatever you want to do, or don't want to do-- I want to be with you, whatever form that takes."

"I know." Erik closes his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. "I'm all right, I just need-- I need a few minutes."

"I understand," Charles says, although he suddenly realizes that he doesn't, quite. "Do you mean-- should I stay, or would it be better if--"

"Stay," Erik says, squeezing his hand hard. "Please. Please stay."

"I will. Of course I'll stay."

"Thank you."

So many feelings and thoughts are floating through Erik's mind, but it's different here, somehow. It's not the crushing weight of disappointment or the lost feeling Erik had so many times before. Charles waits it out with him, until the arousal ebbs away enough for Erik to relax a little, turning back to look at Charles, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"I wish this were easier for us," Erik murmurs.

Charles catches Erik's hand in his. "It feels as though it's better, here. Is it better for you?"

"I-- yes," Erik admits. He glances around the room, looks up at the ceiling. "I don't know if it's the house or the people or something else, but it's... it's easier here."

"If there's room, if we wouldn't be putting them out, we could stay here. Or if you'd rather have our own space, we could get a hotel room nearby, for the rest of--" He swallows; he doesn't want to think about how little time they have before Erik originally meant to be back in Pittsburgh. Things are different now. Things can always change. With Erik beside him, Charles believes they can change for the better. He has to. "For the rest of the time we're in Boston."

"Charles, I--" Erik braces himself, which makes Charles brace himself, in turn. "I'm still not ready to acknowledge. I'm sorry. I want to be. I'm not there yet."

"Adjoining rooms?" Charles jokes weakly. But as soon as he says it, Erik's eyebrows go up, and he nods. "Or a suite," Charles adds, hope flaring again.

"We'd only need to be apart for sleeping. Just for _sleep_ ," Erik emphasizes. He rubs at his eyes. "Which is starting to sound better and better. I don't remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter."

"It's getting more difficult for me as well," Charles admits. "A nearby hotel with a suite or adjoining rooms, though, that should be easy. I'd love to be able to spend more time alone with you, rush aside. Just to be close. To talk."

Erik nods. "I wouldn't want to miss out on our rush, not after we waited all this time for it, but... if you don't mind the occasional trip back here, getting to know the Wyngardes..."

_Having chaperones,_ Charles can read between the lines. But he meant it when he said he'd do anything, whatever it took to make Erik comfortable. Spending time in a household with half a dozen people who are mostly accepting of mutations, even Charles's telepathy... spending time with a young mutant just discovering his ability... getting to know the people who have had the chance to be closest to Erik... most of all, being with his newfound soulmate, having a chance to learn about each other, maybe even finding a way to be together beyond this one week...

"I'll have my things sent over from the Commonwealth," Charles says, squeezing Erik's hand again. "If this is where you want to spend this week, then there's nowhere," he leans in and kisses Erik softly, "nowhere else I'd rather be."


	19. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (10/11)

Being in a familiar place among Erik's chosen family seems to help Erik set limits. In the early afternoon, after half a scene, his mouth on Charles and then his hand, Erik determines that he needs to come up, and sticks to it.

"If we do anything right now, I'll hit the floor, I can feel it," Erik says.

"Then we'll wait," Charles promises, and he means it, but he has Erik's hand in his and he's stroking Erik's lovely long fingers, and they drift into kissing without either of them quite meaning to.

He breaks out of the kiss with a little start and moves away, but this time it's Erik who draws the boundaries, standing and setting his shoulders. "We need less privacy again. And some distraction."

Charles isn't sure what sort of distraction he's capable of right now, after all that sex and no sleep. Fortunately he's not called upon to come up with any bright ideas. As they go downstairs, Pat's standing at the foot, taking in a breath to call up.

"I was just about to ask if you wanted anything from the store," she says. "We're almost out of milk and," she drops her voice, "we need to get Ben out of the house and let him work off some of his energy. He was so excited about being in the wedding, he ran poor Chris and Susan ragged these last couple of weeks, and now he's bouncing off the walls about the climbing gym."

"We'll come along," Erik volunteers, and soon Pat, Janine, Ben, Erik and Charles all pile into Pat's car.

Charles isn't sure how grocery shopping presents a solution to Ben's surplus energy til they enter the vast suburban supermarket. It seems to yawn on for at least four football pitches and contains a Starbucks and a chemist's and, given the space, possibly a municipal court or an art museum or an entire funfair. Simply taking Ben on a leisurely walk from one end of the place to the other would probably tire him out completely.

"Lack of sleep getting to you?" Erik murmurs. "You look a little owl-eyed."

"A bit of that, a bit of-- all this," Charles attempts to indicate the entirety of the supermarket with a wave of his arm and nearly pulls a muscle. "Look at the size of this place! Does it issue its own postage stamps?"

Via the bond, Erik feels bemused, though he scarcely shows it, regarding Charles evenly with only the slightest upward curl at one side of his mouth. "It's just a supermarket."

"Well, New York, you know," Charles says, "if we need something we usually just pop down to the bodega. Raven's vegetarian, bit of a trial to shop for what she needs, so we have most groceries delivered. And before that I was at Oxford, there were dining halls, and for anything else, newsagents and offys--" That gets him a quirked eyebrow; Charles translates, "Convenience stores and liquor stores."

"I see." Erik rubs his jaw. He hasn't shaved, but the stubble coming in doesn't look untidy, just... well, outrageously sexy, not to put too fine a point on it. More than one dominant has clocked Erik already, and Charles gives a speaking look to a dom who begins to approach; a lifted eyebrow gets his point across nicely. From the lack of reaction, it doesn't seem as though Erik notices any of the byplay.

"Can we get Doritos, Aunt Pat?" Ben hops around. "Can we get ice cream? Can I push the cart?"

"I know you heard your mother. You can get one snack and one dessert, and you need to be ready to share. And you can't push the cart because last time I let you, you rode around on it, and you know you're not supposed to."

"I'm not supposed to do anything," Ben complains as they move into the deli and bakery area. "Can I go look at chips? It's boring here."

"We'll go with him," Erik says.

In the snack aisle, Ben nearly loses his mind, confronted by so many options, some of which seem extremely dubious to Charles.

"Are we entirely sure all this is food?" Charles asks. "That stuff you're holding looks like styrofoam packing peanuts."

"Ew!" Ben stuffs the bag on a lower shelf.

Charles returns it to the higher shelf with its fellows and points out another mysterious item labeled 'scratchings'. "Don't these look an awful lot like cicada shells?"

"EW!"

Ben's makes a similar face when Charles takes Erik's arm and smiles at him. Erik chuckles (a fantastic sound) and asks Ben, "What happened to 'being together is the most important thing?'"

"Well, yeah, but--" Ben screws up his face even more sourly. "No kissing!"

Erik promptly kisses Charles-- lightly; they actually seem to be able to manage to kiss lightly now. It probably helps that they're both dead on their feet. As Ben makes _blecch_ noises, Erik inquires, "You said kissing, right?"

"No! I said NO kissing--"

It's a bit harder to keep this one light. Fortunately Ben catches on and yells, "I'm going to the other end for Doritos! Kissing stays on this side! And wait til I'm not looking!"

By the time Ben finally chooses something, Pat and Janine are-- Charles touches his temple and sweeps past all the other minds in the supermarket to find them-- much closer than they were. "The rest of the party is heading into the tea and coffee aisle. I'd like to pick up some tea, shall we join them?"

"Yeah! I like coffee smell," Ben says. "How come it doesn't taste good? It smells good, tastes nasty."

"It depends on the coffee," Charles tells him. "You might be surprised. Really fresh coffee is actually rather sweet."

"How fresh is really fresh?" Erik asks.

"Very. Raven and I were visiting a coffee plantation..." That gets him a slightly incredulous look. "We were in South America on a seeker trip," Charles explains. Erik's brows bend steeply upward, and Charles adds, "Yes. For you."

They give Ben quite a few more reasons to "eww" and Janine several occasions to "aww" throughout the remainder of the excursion.

\---

It seems as if taking separate naps here might start a conversation with the Wyngardes about acknowledgement that Charles would prefer not to have, so privately he resolves not to sleep for the day, and goes to make a pot of tea.

Erik comes along-- which Charles savors; he'd rather stay close unless there's some compelling reason to be apart, but he also needs to respect Erik's need for space, so it's a relief when Erik is the one to make that move.

Better still, Erik opens the cabinet and floats out the kettle, and with only a slight furrow of concentration, hovers it under the spigot, turns the faucet, fills the kettle with water and directs it to land lightly on the hob.

"The knob for the burner is plastic," he says disapprovingly.

Charles switches it on himself, and the one next to it as well. "Do you know where I could find a teapot?"

That doesn't come as easily to Erik, since it's ceramic, but he fetches it down and hands it over to Charles, his emotions full of hope. Charles tilts his head, trying to sort out where that's coming from. "Thank you," he offers.

Erik beams at him. "You're welcome."

No explanation for all that forthcoming... Charles loops an arm around Erik's waist and squeezes him. As long as it's not some kind of need to be praised for _serving_ , they should be fine. "It's nice that you know where everything is here," he says.

"It's nice that it's coming in handy." Erik shrugs. "I like the idea of being able to do things for you."

"You don't need to _do_ anything," Charles assures him, hugging him again. This time he can't help but want a little more than that; he puts the teapot down and gets both arms around Erik's waist. He's so slender-- Charles imagines if his own arms were flexible enough, he could loop them around Erik's waist twice. In that corset vest he wore for the wedding, Charles was tempted to try spanning Erik's waist with his hands. He has no idea why that's so appealing-- well, beyond the attraction one's always meant to feel for one's soulmate-- but whatever the reason, it's captivating; if he were even slightly less exhausted, he'd suggest retiring to Erik's guest room again.

He really is going to collapse if he doesn't get some tea down him, though. "Pat said they have a tea strainer but she wasn't sure where it wandered off to. Do you sense anything like that? It's like a little mesh basket, probably stainless steel..."

Another tremendous grin, and Erik spreads out his hands (that's so interesting; possibly reaching out like that extends his magnetism enough to feel a difference, or perhaps it aids concentration) and in just a few moments, he opens a cupboard, and the strainer comes sailing out and lands neatly next to the tin of loose-leaf Scottish Breakfast tea Charles found at the supermarket.

"That would've taken me ages and a step-stool to turn up. Thank you, darling," Charles kisses his cheek. The pride Erik's feeling makes Charles happy, as well. He's tempted to contrive to need a dozen more metal implements just to give Erik more chances to show off, but, "That's everything. Tea," Charles says, mostly to remind himself, turning to the counter.

"How's this going to work, do you put the tea in the strainer and rest that in the top of the teapot?" Erik asks. "Because I don't think it's the right size for that. I could make it fit..."

"Much as I'd love to see you do that, it's not necessary. Have you never made loose-leaf tea?"

"I prefer coffee. Were you going to show me?"

"I certainly can." He's getting mild curiosity from Erik through the bond, so Charles begins, "First, the teapot wants warming," setting it on the hob. "Why go to all the trouble of heating the water to the perfect temperature and then pour it into a cold teapot that cools it too quickly?"

Erik slips his arms around Charles from behind, and Charles leans back into the embrace, nearly overcome by how _right_ it feels. Even if he weren't knackered, he thinks he could fall asleep just like this, he's so comfortable. And their height difference is perfect like this; Erik can easily see over Charles's head.

His own voice is throaty in his ears as he continues, "Loose tea goes directly into the teapot, not the strainer. The amount is to taste, of course. For a good strong tea like this, I like three teaspoons to a pot. The water temperature depends on the tea. A more delicate leaf like a white or some green or herbal teas will do better if the water is steaming, just under boiling. But for a black tea like this, we want a full boil." It's certainly no hardship to wait for the watched pot, resting in Erik's arms like this. Charles really does nearly doze off on his feet.

He revives to the shriek of the kettle whistling, and he reluctantly steps away from Erik in order to pour a small measure of water over the leaves, rinsing them and pouring it out before filling the teapot with boiling water. He switches off the heat and moves the teapot to the counter to steep. "The first rinse washes away the fannings and dust. You get a clearer tea that way. And with some sorts of tea, it takes off some of the tannins, so the tea's left with a smoother taste. Now we give the pot a stir," Charles suits actions to words, "and wait three minutes. Could be anywhere from thirty seconds to four minutes, depending on the tea. At home I have a second teapot-- you'd like it, it's sterling-- and I pour the tea into that right away when it's done steeping, so it doesn't get too strong. You use the strainer to catch any leafy bits when you're pouring it out."

He's beginning to feel an edge of something from Erik, a hint of discomfort that he can't place. It seems so at odds with the way Erik felt before, all that hope and pleasure-- but yes, now that he's noticing, the hopeful feeling is all gone. Erik's hunching slightly at the shoulders, and he leans back against the countertop as Charles watches, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

"I'm sorry, did I say something?" Charles thinks back. "Was I assuming too much about sterling?" Now that he thinks about it, the windcatcher he's wearing is stainless steel, not silver, but this seems like a bit much for getting Erik's preferences in metal wrong. Of course, with Erik's ability, it might feel like a great deal more than a simple preference. Charles reaches out to touch Erik's arm, and Erik tightens his jaw and stands his ground. "Erik?"

"I don't mind silver," Erik says. "I don't like the idea of being-- groomed."

That just makes Charles frown even harder. Erik was clean-shaven for the wedding, but from photos and their first meeting, he seems to be habitually stubbly, and he hasn't shaved today. Strange to bring it up now, though. "Whether you shave or not is up to you," he says carefully. "Erik--"

"Damn it, Charles, I'm not talking about _shaving_." Erik jerks his arm back and stalks off a few steps; Charles swallows hard, fighting down the urge to follow him. There's a door at the back of the kitchen, but that isn't where Erik's headed; he's just pacing back and forth here, both hands coming up, nails scratching through his hair. "I can't do tea service for you just because I'm your-- your--"

"You're my _partner_ ," Charles says firmly, coming over again and turning his own hand palm-up, offering it, not reaching out and taking. "I wasn't expecting tea service, Erik, good grief--" But he wonders, now, if it came across that way. "We've had so little time together yet, I don't suppose you've had a chance to notice-- I talk a great deal. I like explaining things. Raven says I turn everything into a teaching moment, and I do _like_ teaching, but talking about something like this doesn't mean I have-- expectations."

"No?"

"No." Charles holds Erik's gaze until Erik finally looks down, at Charles's hand. He slips his hand into Charles's, and Charles holds on, closing his eyes with relief. "I don't expect anything of the sort from you."

Erik's grip tightens. Charles can feel more strain in him, anger ready to spark, but this time Erik keeps his temper in check. "What do you expect from me?"

Charles takes a deep breath. It's a loaded question, of course, but pointing that out doesn't seem as though it could possibly be helpful right now. "I want to be with you," he tries instead. "That means so much, Erik-- I thought I'd lost you. Where we go from here is something we can work out together."

"I'm not saying I can't do anything, ever," Erik says. "I don't-- I don't want to do tea service, I don't want to walk around barefoot and naked, but there are-- I can do things."

"And when you're ready to do anything else with me, regardless of what it is, I'll be there with you to try it. That doesn't mean we have to like everything we try together, or that it has to work straight away, or go right every time. I'm not comparing what we have to some boyhood fairy story about a perfect bond. We could spend the rest of our lives doing nothing but what we've done already, and I'd be thrilled." Charles takes a chance and settles his hands on Erik's hips, and though Erik flares with concern, a moment later he's wrapping his arms around Charles, holding tightly.

"I think I can offer you a little more than that," Erik murmurs. "But it's going to take time."

"Erik." Charles leans back so he can look up; Erik's brows are drawn together, an expression that makes Charles long to soothe him, tell him everything's going to be all right from now on, that it doesn't matter so long as they're together. "We have all the time we need, now. There's no hurry." He wishes he could find a way to say it that would convince Erik that he means it, but failing that, he'll say it as many times as Erik needs to hear it.

"All the time we need," Erik repeats, and from the tinge of sadness in the bond, Charles knows neither one of them's forgotten that their days here in Boston are numbered. "Is that really how you feel?"

"As long as we both want to be together, nothing's beyond us." Charles reaches up, finally, curving his hand around soul's-home, drawing Erik down into a kiss.

If Erik's still feeling conflicted by the time the kiss ends, it's not coming through the bond. He breaks away and glances over at the stove. "Did we ruin your tea?" he asks softly.

"I'm sure we haven't." Charles turns back to the pot. "And there's always more where that came from."

Erik strokes a hand down Charles's back. "I hope so," he murmurs. The slightest flicker of a tease colors that sentiment, and Charles grins, turning and pressing Erik against the countertop again, sliding into Erik's arms for another kiss.

\---

Erik knew, or thought he knew, a lot of things about Charles before they met again at the wedding. He was a little winded by the amount of money Charles's late father left to Erik, as Charles's soulmate, but he was able to put it to good use. And that explained things, he thought; it explained why Charles came to him with that pushy attitude and sense of entitlement, why he thought he could make up for everything by bailing Erik-- and everyone else at the MFMR protest-- out of jail.

By now he knows a lot of his early impressions about Charles were wrong, of course, that there's so much more to him than the angry dom who thought he'd been _renounced,_ the deserter who behaved as if money could paper over his absence. But it's one thing to know Charles didn't mean it that way, and another thing to try to adjust to this new part of Erik's life, this person who all at once means _everything_.

He tries to believe it when Charles tells him that he won't be expected to act like a houseslave, but now and then Charles takes the initiative in a way that tells Erik he's not used to having anyone question his decisions.

For one thing, Charles simply pays to have his hotel room at the Commonwealth packed up and his things sent over to the nearer hotel; he doesn't even bother to ask Erik whether he can take his car back over and help Charles pack it all up. Instead, a courier rings the doorbell at the Wyngardes' and, once Janine and Rick realize he's in the right place after all and let him in, he hands Charles an envelope, complete with room keys, directions, and a small map of the new hotel. Erik doesn't even recognize the name, but he has a feeling that if he did an internet search for it, it'd turn out to be four-star.

He shoots Charles an amused look-- mostly he's amused-- and Charles looks back at him for a few seconds before asking, "What?"

"I do have a car here. We could have gone ourselves."

"Easier this way, though, don't you think? Why go all that way just to come all the way back?"

There's not much point in arguing; it _is_ easier. Still, it's notable that Charles didn't even see that as an extravagance. And yet he isn't showing off, doesn't seem to take any particular pride in his wealth. Charles uses money as a way of solving problems, and he's generous about it without giving it any thought. He stepped in to pay for the grocery bill earlier this afternoon, and Erik was so distracted that Charles has a credit card made of titanium that he barely registered the quick polite scuffle that erupted between Pat and Charles. Of course he's seen Centurion cards before-- he's had customers use them in the jewelry shop-- but he was so focused on the windcatcher resting against Charles's chest, he hadn't been feeling out for that thin wafer of titanium in Charles's wallet; he'd missed it entirely.

«Where _else_ are you hiding metal on your person?» Erik wonders.

Charles smiles enigmatically-- punctuated with a yawn-- and sends back, «Find out, if you like. You're always welcome to.»

"Nothing else," Erik says after a moment. "Besides what I already knew about, the windcatcher, your belt and zipper, your watch, and the eyelets on your shoes."

"Nothing else _yet_ ," Charles grins.

When they go to the new hotel that night, Charles barely seems to take note of the giant overstuffed sofa or the huge flatscreen TV or the pillow-topped queen beds with immaculate linens, and he cracks into the minibar without hesitation and without consulting the price list. Erik spent half his childhood in hotels, but he's never eaten or drunk anything out of a minibar in his life.

If it'd been up to Erik, he would have called around to the local Motel 6s and Super 8s until he found somewhere with a pair of adjoining rooms, preferably with free continental breakfast-- all these years later, and a part of him still loves cheap motel breakfasts with their conveyor-belt toaster ovens.

The suite Charles rented for them has its own kitchenette. And two bathrooms. It's bigger than Erik's first apartment in Pittsburgh.

But it makes things easier on them both, not having very far to go when it's time to sleep at last. Not _easy,_ though. After a last sleepy lovemaking session, it's definitely not the highlight of Erik's day to pull himself drowsily off Charles's chest and tug a robe on when he'd much rather be sleeping right where he was.

Charles strokes Erik's hair, crown to nape, and Erik shivers all over. «I'll miss you, too,» Charles thinks.

«I'll probably be right back in here as soon as it's morning,» Erik warns him. «As long as one of us is awake, that won't trigger acknowledgment.»

Charles bites his lower lip for a moment, frowning. «I'll try to wake up. I shouldn't sleep too late, it'll throw my whole schedule off.»

«Well, then, if you're up early, you come in with me.» Erik rubs his thumb over the crease in Charles's stubborn chin, the crescent-shaped curve just below Charles's mouth that seems to second his frowns. «I don't want to be apart any longer than we have to be.»

«We're in complete agreement there,» Charles assures him. He kisses the pad of Erik's thumb, and then flings his arms around Erik, drawing him close for one last embrace. «I love you. I love you _so much_ , Erik, I'm so glad we're together like this.»

It _does_ feel like he's glad-- Erik can sense a tinge of Charles's emotions, he's felt that all this time they've been together, but it's still coming from Charles's telepathy, carried on the thoughts he sends, and not their bond. Maybe someday, though. Maybe someday soon.

He kisses Charles's forehead and eases out of his arms. "I'll be back for you in the morning," he promises.

Charles beams at him. "Not if I get to you first."

\---

In the end, it's Erik who's awake first-- at least he thinks it is. He spends a good fifteen minutes dozing in bed, trying to reach for their bond. Charles is right there on the other end of it, not twenty feet away from him, and it almost feels as though he's sensing Charles again-- his presence, if not his actual feelings. But he can't be sure.

A few minutes later, he hears Charles moving around, water running-- maybe he's brushing his teeth. Erik drags himself out of bed to do the same, and by the time he's fully awake, he can't feel anything at all, if he ever could. Maybe he was just fooling himself as he came out of his dreams. He _did_ dream of Charles, just holding him, being close. It was wonderful.

He tells that to Charles when they both come out of their rooms at the same time, both wrapped in the hotel's robes. Erik puts coffee on, and Charles brews tea-- none of yesterday's elaborate rigamarole, this time he settles for the teabags and the electric kettle provided in their suite, and puts it aside to cool as he sits next to Erik on the couch.

"I dreamt of you, too," Charles tells him, smiling-- there's an element of wickedness to that grin. "I usually have lucid dreams."

Erik sips at his coffee for a few seconds to cover the instant reaction of nervousness. But that's hardly useful; Charles is his soulmate, Charles can feel him, of course he realizes Erik's nervous about something. He lifts his brows, and Erik sighs, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his cheek.

"I just wonder if you're dreaming me into something I wouldn't be ready for in reality. Which is fine," Erik says quickly, "I don't mind you dreaming anything you like, that would be absurd, but just-- don't expect me to be able to do what I can do when you're imagining things."

"I wouldn't," Charles reassures him, snuggling close. Erik wraps an arm around Charles's shoulders and kisses the top of his head. "And I didn't invent anything new. I was just replaying some of our better moments."

"Which moments are those?"

"All of them," Charles sighs, smiling. Erik can't help smiling, too, as Charles stretches up to kiss him. They make a few more moments-- on the couch, and against the wall in Erik's room, not quite making it to the bed-- before they ever manage to finally get dressed.

Later that morning, back at the Wyngardes', there's a repeat of yesterday's breakfast gathering-- minus one. "Dennis took a train back home," Janine says, rolling her eyes. "I guess he decided three was a crowd or something nuts like that, because hello, _nine_ of us in total. Like he couldn't have hung out with me or something? Whatever, he probably has stuff he wanted to do at home anyway."

"At least that'll save on aluminium foil," Charles laughs. It amazes Erik he can joke about something like that, but he can't sense Charles enough to know if it bothers him somewhere that Erik can't see. Erik won't be forgiving Dennis any time soon. He privately resolves to ensure anyone he actually spends much time with in Pittsburgh knows that his soulmate's a telepath, and that they'd better behave appropriately around him-- but soon enough the conversation's moved on.

At breakfast, Charles is evicted from the kitchen when he tries to help, and he retaliates in the battle-of-politeness he and Pat seem to be engaged in by offering to take everyone at Pat and Rick's out to dinner. As Erik comes out of the kitchen himself, Charles is pointing out, "After all, there are two more of us than you expected, and our hosts shouldn't have to cook for an army every morning, noon, and night."

"Well, if you want to score points with Erik," Rick says, nudging Erik with an elbow, "maybe we could go out for steak."

"Steak?" Charles asks, looking over at Erik. Erik laughs, but he can't really deny the appeal. "Do you have a favorite steakhouse around here?"

"Pretty sure he doesn't care," Janine chimes in. "But there's a place not too far from here that has organic grass-fed beef, which would be my vote if we're going for a full-out carnivore meal."

"What is it about steak, exactly...?"

"Can you guess?" Erik lifts an eyebrow. With anyone else, he might just let himself answer with _it's my favorite_ , or even explain fully, but he wonders if Charles might make the connection on his own.

"Oh! Is it the iron?" Erik's grin must be ear-to-ear; Charles meets it with one of his own, and comes over to Erik and hugs him. "Of course, it makes sense... I'll have to look into what other foods are rich in iron, I can't go anemic on you if you can sense it as keenly as all that."

"Maybe Emily could look it up," Chris says, waving to get Emily's attention. "Emily, can you look up what foods have high iron?"

Giving Emily a chance to show off her iPhone is a win for everyone; she comes over with a list. "Herbs, chocolate--"

"Not a fan of chocolate," Erik says.

"Liver..."

"Liver?"

"There are preparations other than the standard '-and-onions'," Charles assures him.

"Shellfish..." Emily glances up at Erik. "Okay, that one's out..."

"I don't keep kosher," Erik reminds her, "but I've never been much in the habit of eating it..."

"Tahini, caviar, sun dried tomatoes, sunflower seeds, dried apricots, raisins, spinach..."

"We could put together a trail mix," Charles suggests, squeezing Erik around the waist again.

"A trail mix with caviar?" Erik teases. But, of course, then he's thinking about that hotel room again, and room service, caviar, and... he leans down and kisses Charles, and suddenly a list of iron-rich foods is the last thing on his mind.

"I think my work here is done," Emily says, and trots back to the couch, plopping herself down and going back to her texting.

When Erik and Charles finally pull apart, Janine taps Charles on the shoulder. "The Seasonal Grill," she says. "If you can get a reservation."

He does, of course, but there's something much more important on the agenda-- at least so far as Ben's concerned. It's his birthday, and they promised him a trip to the climbing gym. He's so intent on it he agrees to have his birthday cake at the restaurant that night, and presents there as well. Susan gives Erik a fast kiss on the cheek as he hustles Charles and Ben out the door.

"Thanks so much for this," Susan tells him. "I know he'll be safe with you."

Erik's heart aches just a little as he nods. "Of course he will."

"Feel free to keep him out until four or so. He'll probably be too excited to nap this afternoon anyway. We're going to do some last-minute birthday shopping while we've got the chance," she grimaces, "holiday return crowds be damned."

"Good luck," he tells her. She laughs and waves him off, and he heads out to the car, popping the locks from here with his ability just to see Charles smile.

\---

When they finally get to the climbing gym, Ben fidgets through the entire safety lesson, but Charles focuses in, listening carefully to every word and nodding as the instructor, Jordan, explains about harnesses-- both the full-torso harnesses worn by children at the gym, and the standard waist-and-thigh harnesses that adults wear-- and to Erik's surprise, when it comes time to change into climbing gear, Charles says, "I'll just pop out to the car for my change of clothes. Won't be a tick."

"You have gym clothes here?" Erik asks, startled.

"I had the courier pick some up when he moved my things from the Commonwealth to the Crescent Suites Hotel. Since we'd been talking about this outing." Charles winks at Ben, who's bouncing up and down with glee, already strapped into his harness. "Right back."

Erik's already in his most comfortable pair of jeans; he lets Jordan help him step into the rental harness and waves to Charles as Charles zips back in through the gym door, heading off for the locker room. Once Erik's buckled in safely-- he could wish there were a bit more metal on this harness, he's pretty sure the two thigh buckles and the waist buckle wouldn't be enough to let him self-brake with his ability-- he settles in and waits for Charles.

It doesn't take long. Charles comes out of the locker room in a blue t-shirt that fits his shoulders but hangs loosely off him at the waist, and a pair of white track shorts that are honestly a bit too tight in the thighs, not that Erik's complaining. For his part, Charles's eyes are wide as saucers when he rejoins them; his gaze is solidly on Erik, or rather-- solidly on Erik's crotch. Erik's face feels hot.

«You're staring.»

«I'm sorry!» With what looks to be an effort, Charles forces his attention back to Erik's face. «I just wasn't expecting-- it's _framed_.»

Erik glances down at himself. From where he's standing, nothing looks to be out of order. Charles turns deliberately to Jordan and lets her help him into his rental harness, too-- at which point Erik sees exactly what Charles means by "framed". The shape of the harness and the thigh straps do frame the groin, like a different sort of harness entirely.

«You really didn't notice that with any of these people before now?» Charles sends, double-checking his buckles.

Erik glances around the gym, trying not to be too obvious about it. «Of course not. I wasn't looking at anyone else-- well, not at their packages, anyway, it's not as though it's relevant to me!»

«It's not relevant to me, either, but I have eyes!» Charles nods at Jordan. "I think we're ready to move on, aren't we? Erik?"

"Of course," Erik says to Jordan, while sending to Charles, «You didn't seem to take much notice until now yourself...»

«Well. _Now_ it's relevant,» Charles says, flashing Erik a cheeky grin as Jordan draws a pair of ropes off the wall and hands one of them over to Charles. Erik sucks in a breath through his teeth. Charles wearing _that_ , and those too-tight shorts, and rope is about to be involved... he's beginning to be very, very sorry there's a seven-year-old in the immediate vicinity.

Jordan runs them through a review on figure-eight knots and shows them how to tie in. Even Erik knows how to do that knot, but watching Charles's hands, quick and sure on the rope, threatens to leave him on the ground. Charles looks up at Erik once he's tied and untied his practice knot. "Do you want to climb first or should I?"

"I'll climb," Erik says, mostly because if he has to watch Charles tying knots for much longer, they're not going to make it through the rest of the lesson.

Erik ties himself in, trying his best to ignore the way Charles focuses on him during the process. Jordan double-checks his knot and harness, tugging firmly to make sure everything's secure. There's a little crease between Charles's eyebrows at that, though it's clear he's not going to argue with any sort of safety measure.

Still, «Next time I'll check you,» Charles sends.

«Next time we come here, we'd better not still be hip-deep in seeker rush,» Erik sends back.

But for all of that, climbing turns out to be fun. Neither Erik nor Charles have any particular talent for it, although Erik's long reach and upper-body strength lend him a slight advantage.

Of course, Ben takes to it like he was born to climb; he _was_. His mutation is brilliant in the climbing gym, his hands and feet sticking to even the smallest holds-- or the wall itself-- as though nothing could possibly stop him from getting to the top of the wall, every time.

Two practice passes and Jordan steps back to supervise, letting Charles and Erik take turns belaying Ben. It falls into a pattern eventually, Erik actually belaying, Charles calling up instructions to Ben when Ben seems uncertain as to how to make the next move, and Ben finally scrambling up complicated routes that make more experienced climbers exclaim and laugh and offer up high-fives. If anyone here minds that Ben's a mutant, they're not making an issue of it today.

Charles sounds hoarse by the time they've been at the gym an hour-- it turns out forty feet is a significant distance, when the gym is crowded with people and the music bounces through the echoing acoustics of the place. It amazes Erik that Charles hasn't already thought of this, but when Ben comes down next, Erik says, "Ben, how would you feel about letting Charles talk to your mind?"

"Huh?" Ben is already looking around the walls, trying to decide which route he wants to try next.

"Erik, that really isn't necessary--" Charles cuts himself off and sends, «He's only seven, he won't know how to project.»

« _You_ know how. Is it harder to project to kids?»

«Somewhat! They aren't usually very focused, it can be a bit tiring.» Charles gives Erik a fond look. «No one else is _you_. I think you might be overlooking how important that is, when it comes to speaking mind-to-mind.»

«Fair enough, but wouldn't you at least like to try it? You could give your throat a rest.»

«Why, will I need it later?»

Erik very carefully does not look at Charles, who hasn't taken his harness off yet. To Ben, he says, "It might not work for you, but Charles and I can talk using his ability. If he could speak to your mind, he wouldn't have to shout, and you wouldn't have to ask him to repeat things when you're up at the top of the wall."

"You mean you can talk at my brain?" Ben asks. "Like Cameo in _Mutant Adventure Club_?"

«I'm missing the reference,» Charles sends quickly.

«It's a kids' show, it only lasted thirteen episodes before it was canceled, but I sent them copies of the episodes-- we taped it at Helix,» Erik explains. «Cameo could project and receive thoughts, but the show passed over any ability to actually read minds beyond what people were sending.»

«Ah! I suppose I ought to look that up, it's not too often we see positive portrayals of mutants in television at all, let alone young ones...» He tells Ben, "Like that, yes."

Ben squinches up his nose, his face wrinkling. Charles laughs. "I did hear that! Would you like to try?" Ben nods. «All right,» and Charles sends that to them both, apparently, because Ben beams and scrambles back toward the wall.

"Safety check first," Erik says.

"I haven't even been off the rope!"

"Doesn't matter. Safety check first."

Ben lets Erik check his harness, the knots, and his end of the rope, and then he's off, listening for Charles's directions in his mind and flying up the wall, one eager move at a time.

\---

For the rest of the week, they spend their days at the Wyngardes', talking and helping out around the house, putting things back in order after the chaos caused by the wedding preparations, and the dozen guests who stayed in the days before. They take Erik's car back to the hotel each night.

Seeker rush gradually begins to taper off. Erik finds he wants Charles as ferociously as ever, and they're still spending almost as much time in bed together, but they're beginning to sustain longer sessions, instead of the constant staccato pace of need, climax, recovery, repeat. Within those few days, Erik's sure they've touched and kissed each other absolutely everywhere, indulged in almost every kind of basic sex.

They have privacy at their two-bedroom suite at the Crescent Suites Hotel, and no pressure to acknowledge yet. It's hard to give Charles that last kiss goodnight before they sleep in separate rooms; he's not sure what he'd do if Charles asked him to stay... or told him to. But every time Erik settles down to sleep alone, he feels a little more in control.

There are still frustrations-- Erik _still_ needs help coming up every other scene, and there's so much he feels he can't do without losing himself-- but it's good to get a feel for what everyday life with Charles might be like, too.

Might be... everything could change so easily if they actually moved in together. Charles hasn't talked much more about his expectations since their tea service skirmish, but Erik's all too aware that he's the sub in this relationship, and just thinking about sleeping on a sub's pallet again makes his back ache. He isn't sure whether he's dreading or longing for the inevitable talk about collaring. He knows he's not ready, but his wrist feels naked without the windcatcher's chain wrapped around it. He can't help but find it ironic that after all these years, his dominant's the one with jewelry around his neck-- if Charles finds that strange, he hasn't said anything about it.

So maybe it's just as well that they're not on Erik's home turf, and not in New York, either. Maybe the rules can be relaxed a little, here. As the week goes on, Erik stops worrying so much about who they'll be in their lives together down the road, and starts appreciating all the little details he's finding out, the kind of random everyday things about each other that can only be learned from spending extended time just living side by side.

That is, Erik assumes Charles is learning things too. Charles picks up a habit of passing anything metal in the vicinity over to Erik, and he asks about Erik's family and his band t-shirts and his job and the kids Erik works with at Helix. Erik's vented to Jason about working retail at jewelry stores, and they used to joke about some of the weird customers and strange requests. He didn't think anyone else would be interested, but he tells some of those things to Charles, and Charles laughs.

Erik discovers that besides being good with Ben and fazed by supermarkets and extremely ticklish, Charles doesn't smoke or like to be around smoke, does drink, and definitely hasn't been doing all that lip-licking just for Erik's sake; it's constant. He likes classic jazz and nonfiction books and used to box in college.

He likes the candy sprinkles on holiday cookies better than the cookies. Erik starts letting him pick them off before eating the cookies himself, and is informed (without ever actually asking) that some of the candy toppings are called nonpareils, and some are dragées, and what the difference is.

"We always just called them sprinkles. Because you sprinkle them on," Erik deadpans, once he's been thoroughly educated on the subject.

"Ah," says Charles. "Well. That works too."

Charles is endlessly interested in Erik's mutation, in any mutation. Ben pesters his parents until they agree to let Charles and Erik take him to Rock Garden again; Erik isn't sure whether Susan and Chris were swayed by Ben's tireless pleas or whether it was Charles's hopeful look-- and the way that hopeful look made Erik melt, more than a little. If they were in Pittsburgh, Erik would take Charles to Helix and introduce him to the kids there. He wonders what Charles's influence might do to draw some of the shy young mutants out of their shells.

"He's really going all-out, isn't he?" Janine asks, during an afternoon when Charles and Ben are experimenting with different surfaces for climbing. They're in the living room, which is two stories, and there are well-built materials of all sorts here: wood, plaster, drywall, velvet drapes, even a mirror-- although after watching it wobble, Charles quickly hauls Ben off it, declaring it off-limits for Ben's safety.

"What else do you think you could climb?" Charles asks.

"Rock! And brick!" Ben's nearly vibrating with excitement. "Can we go outside, I can show you on the outside of the house, please, Charles--"

"Let me just bundle up," Charles says. "Erik, are you coming?"

"Of course." Erik watches Ben race to brag to Rick that Charles is going to help him climb the outside of the house. "You have a fan."

"I am a fan!" Charles smiles, pulling on his fingerless gloves. "I can't wait to see this."

While Charles gets into even more layers, Erik just tugs on his leather jacket, and Janine wraps up in a wool peacoat. Erik leans over to her, lowering his voice. "What did you mean, going all out...?" She waves him off, mouthing, _later_.

There's no snow outside, but it is chilly; Charles's nose and cheeks turn red as he coaches Ben through a few very short climbs on the brick exterior of the chimney and the stone on the outside of the house itself. Ben pouts when Charles tells him to come down after only six feet of climbing-- so short a climb that Charles could easily catch him if he slipped. Of course, Ben isn't slipping, not on any of these surfaces.

"What else is out here?" Charles asks.

"There's the garage," Erik offers. "The doors are actually coated aluminum."

"Metal! Brilliant!"

"I'll race you!" Ben shouts, and he's off like a shot, Charles quick on his heels.

"He knows you want kids, doesn't he?" Janine asks, nodding at Ben and Charles as she and Erik follow at a walk.

Erik's breath sticks in his throat for a moment. "I didn't realize _you_ knew I wanted kids." He tenses up a bit; if anyone here isn't going to make assumptions based on his orientation-- his _former_ orientation-- it's Janine, but...

"Come on, you're totally one of those people who loves to be around children. Like _any_ of us actually missed that." Janine laughs, and Erik relaxes. It's not the typical _of course you want kids, all subs want kids_ assumption after all. "It seems like he's working overtime to show he'll be a good dad someday."

It's hard to believe that Erik could fall in love with Charles _more_ , after their reunion and this time together-- after their five years, back when they were little more than children themselves. But watching Charles with Ben, and hearing it stated outright, really does take Erik's breath away. _He's good with kids. He'd be a good father..._

Charles turns to Erik, smiling all over again, and Erik comes over to stand behind him, hugging him hard.

«Those felt like good thoughts,» Charles sends, leaning back against him. «Anything you want to share?»

«Later. When we're alone,» Erik promises, although privately he's not sure how he's going to broach the topic of having children together when they're not even sure when they're going to acknowledge or recognize.

As it turns out, Ben can climb the metal garage doors with no difficulty at all. Charles gives Erik a considering look. "What about you? I know you can stick to metal." Erik almost looks away, face heating, remembering how Charles found that out. But at least any color on his cheeks can be attributed to the cold weather. "Do you think you could climb it?"

"Probably," Erik says, "but I'd be worried about the integrity of the garage doors. I weigh more than Ben does."

"Barely," Janine mutters half under her breath, and flashes a huge bratty grin when Erik attempts a glare at her. The Wyngardes are all immune to his iciest looks.

"You could just bend them back into place if they fall down!" Ben chirps.

"Maybe. But I might damage the automatic openers, and I don't know much about how those gears work. I have no idea where we could find something metal that's safe to climb..."

"Well, at any rate, I'm freezing," Charles says, cuddling up against Erik more intently-- almost too intently, thank goodness for all these layers. "Let's go back inside. I have an idea for something else to try."

Charles's bright idea sends Ben rocketing through the house to ask permission. "Mom! Charles said I can climb him but I should ask you first so is it okay if I do it if he says I can? Because that's not rude if he says I can!"

Susan groans; Chris has to take up the slack. "If it's _just Charles_ and _just this once_ \--"

"Yay!" Ben tears off through the house again, finding Charles in the rec room side of the finished basement, surrounded by beanbags and cushions. The ceiling isn't very high here, about seven feet, which is also a plus; even if Ben gets overexcited and climbs that high, there wouldn't be far to fall.

"All right, here's what I thought," Charles says, but Ben's already grabbed hold of his arm and started making his way up Charles's back. Charles laughs out loud when Ben gets to his shoulders and gives Charles a noogie. "Ben! Here's what I thought. Hop down, now." He gives Ben a slight jostle, crouching down, and Ben lets go and tumbles to the floor, flinging himself at the beanbags.

Erik, for his part, squishes in amongst some out-of-the-way beanbags to watch. Charles pockets his cufflinks and starts rolling his sleeves up, and Erik squirms a bit more deeply into the beanbags. The pale freckled expanse of Charles's forearms is one of the more tantalizing parts of his body, when he's fully-clothed, and the strong muscles in his arms-- Erik's had a lot of thoughts about those, about whether he can deliver a good solid spanking. As soon as Erik's ready for painplay without dropping right to the floor, he's going to ask Charles about it.

For now, Charles holds his hands out, flat, above Ben's head. "Reach up and see if you can stick to my hands," Charles offers.

Ben immediately reaches up to Charles's hands, and Erik can see it when the connection's made; their hands align perfectly, Ben's smaller ones latching onto Charles's as if drawn there by some form of suction. Maybe that's just what it is; Erik hasn't been diving into the scientific details so much as watching the way Ben seems to have taken an instant liking to Charles, the way Charles encourages Ben to explore what he can do to the fullest.

"All right, now let go," Charles instructs. Ben does it, after a moment's cajoling, and Charles turns his hands over, examining the backs of them and then his palms. "So now we know for certain you can stick to skin, not just clothes, and you can stick to things even when you're not vertically climbing. Though it's still not obvious how. It doesn't feel like you're secreting anything to stick to surfaces."

"What's secreting?"

Charles smiles. "Secreting means something's coming out, like when you sweat."

"Ewww, nothing's coming out of me!" Ben screws up his face. "Plus Mom would never let me climb _anything_ if I left, like, smears behind!"

"That's a good point, I should have thought of that," Charles agrees. "But it also explains why you aren't bothered by wearing shoes, at the gym--"

"My feet still grip better _out_ of shoes," Ben grumbles.

"Or why you can use chalk like anyone else without it interfering with your ability."

"I just like the chalk," Ben beams. "I need a chalk bag! I want one like that domme had at the gym, with the turtle on it!"

"Would you like to try sticking to me, again?" Charles asks, holding his hands out. Ben immediately reaches up and sticks to him, palm to palm, and Charles draws his hands up until Ben's arms are fully-extended. "I know you're not meant to try climbing ceilings--"

"Not even in here!" Ben complains. "And I have stuff to land on and it's really low!"

"That's a good rule, though," Charles says. "Even if you can stick strongly enough, ceilings are often less sturdy than walls. Sometimes they're just foam tiles resting on a frame; that's called a dropped ceiling, and it couldn't take your weight. But we can find out if you can stick to an overhead surface. You were nearly doing that at the climbing gym, on some of the routes."

"Yeah!" Ben cheers. "Next time I want to go bouldering. I don't need a rope, I'm not going to fall!"

Erik snorts. "That's up to your parents," he reminds Ben, who isn't listening.

"Next time I want to do some of the, of the-- the ones where you lean wayyyy back," Ben demonstrates, leaning back and leaving his hands stuck tight to Charles. Charles leans back slightly and shifts his weight to counterbalance, grinning down at Ben, who lifts a foot up and sticks it to Charles's knee. Charles bends both legs and lets Ben take a few steps up, until his feet are nearly at Charles's waist. "Like _this_!"

"Fair enough," Charles says. It doesn't even sound like he's straining, though Ben is hardly weightless, and the two of them have been playing for quite some time now. "But in the meantime, let's try something else."

Erik wonders if this is going where he thinks it is-- is Charles really strong enough to lift Ben off the ground this way? He sits up a little more, staring, watching Charles that much more closely.

"Careful now, careful..." And Charles starts to lift his hands up, pulling Ben along with him. Ben laughs, and once he's fully off the ground, he kicks his feet, rocking back and forth a bit. Charles's arms are straining with the effort, it would be a difficult position in which to hold a weight up for very long, but Charles is solid on his feet, grinning at Ben as he raises his arms as high as possible.

"Higher!" Ben squeals.

"I don't go any higher!" Charles laughs in return.

"Higher, _higher_!"

Charles comes up on his toes, but that's as high as he can get Ben. Ben says "Awww!" when Charles sets him down, but Charles has to shake out his arms after all that. And Erik has to come off the beanbags to rub down Charles's shoulders-- well, no. No, he doesn't _have_ to, he wants to, and when Ben says "Ew, I know what comes next, MORE KISSING," he isn't wrong-- but they wait until he's fled upstairs before they start.

\---

"Happy Zot Chanukah!" Pat sings out as they sit down to breakfast on the 29th.

"Oh, tonight's the last night, that's right," Charles says. "Do you do anything to observe...?"

"No, not really," Erik says.

"I know you don't keep kosher, but I thought we might try just for dinner tonight," Pat says. "I have a kosher recipe for peppers stuffed with ricotta and feta cheese and one for baked salmon, and everything we need for spanakopita, and latkes, and doughnuts."

"You don't have to go to all that trouble."

"It's no trouble!"

"Then-- that would be great, thank you," Erik says. The emotions Charles can feel from him through the bond are tumultuous: Erik is grateful and irritated and abashed and rueful, all at once.

Charles reaches for his hand. «Are you all right? Your feelings seem complicated.»

«I'm sure,» Erik thinks wryly. «I appreciate that Pat wants to be inclusive. But I don't actually mind feeling like I'm their guest at their holiday, I don't really need them to try so hard to accommodate me. I know they mean well, but it feels a little...»

«Patronizing?» Charles hazards, feeling a bit rueful as well. According to Raven, he tends to come off as condescending sometimes himself; he'll have to be careful. The map he made of mutant-friendly synagogues and kosher delis and restaurants in Manhattan probably crosses that line and then some. He knows Erik is perfectly capable of looking those things up himself.

«Something like that. I trust Pat and Rick's intentions,» Erik explains. «Other people... even other people in the family... it doesn't feel like they really care, it's more like they want to be seen as the kind of people who care. I'm not here to be a hurdle for them to clear on their way to winning the Tolerance Olympics. Lucky me, I count for bonus points, three hurdles, Jewish, mutant, and unoriented.»

A rather pitiless assessment, but accurate, which seems to be a frequent perspective for Erik. Charles nods. «I see what you mean. I'm an atheist. I did some reading about Judaism-- I do honestly want to know as much as I can about the things that matter to you, but... it may have been a bit Olympian in nature.»

«I trust your intentions, too,» Erik sends. «You don't need to do anything for me today. I promise I'm not going to think you're a bad Jewish-person's-soulmate or anything. Holidays were always so much more about family to me than anything, and after my mother died I just didn't-- I just didn't.»

«I think I understand.» Charles squeezes his hand, and lets the subject drop for the time being, as the others begin to sit down to the breakfast table. He gets Erik's surge of affection as Ben, hair a thicket and eyes barely open, clambers into his chair and slumps, nearly nodding off again over his plate.

Both Erik and Charles work with older kids when they volunteer; it's sheer happenstance in Charles's case, but he wondered whether it had been a conscious choice for Erik. It's been lovely to feel that Erik is so fond of Ben, that he seems to like younger children as well.

After breakfast, tucked side by side into the chair-and-a-half in the living room, Erik says quietly, "Maybe we'll do something next year. Since we're... since now there's... there's us, now. Maybe when we decide where we're going to settle down..."

_When._ Charles slips his arms around Erik and holds him, his head against Erik's shoulder. It may not be his holiday, but it feels like a good day to celebrate a miracle.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Charles Xavier**! You have [34] new notifications!

_Friend request confirmed:_ **Pat Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Rick Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Susan Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Chris Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Emily Wyngarde**  
 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Magda Maximoff**

View [28] more notifications now?

_Status updates, **Jason Wyngarde** :_

**12/29/2008:** Have I mentioned today that I fucking love my husband?  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Yes! :D~ :D~ :D~  
→ _Susan Wyngarde:_ Aww!  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Cngratulations again!  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Congratulations*  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Are you going to drop in at Pat and Rick's for New Year's Eve?  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Dude we're dropping in _everywhere_. We're going to hit one party in every time zone. Well, every populated time zone. We're going to try to nap when there are time zones with no parties.  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Yes "nap". This is precisely what we will do. :D~  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Why are you even out of bed anyway?  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Because my gorgeous husband is tap tap tapping on his laptop?

**You have [1] new notification from Erik Lehnsherr!** View notification now?

_Relationship status change requested:_ **Erik Lehnsherr** wants to change his relationship status with you to: **Soulmates**

_Relationship status changed:_ You are now Soulmates with **Erik Lehnsherr**

\---

The end of the week sneaks up on them, but Erik's found himself filing away more and more details about Charles, as many as he can. He discovers that Charles isn't easily scandalized, which only makes sense-- if he's been overhearing people's surface thoughts most of his life, he's probably heard more than anyone would ever care to about simple-but-all-consuming things like bathroom use and illness and unexpected arousal.

Charles likes football-- 'real' football, as he puts it, as opposed to the American variety-- but prefers playing to watching. He knows how to ski, but doesn't do it very often these days-- he doesn't like the cold. He flushes pink when he's happy, when they've been in bed for a while, when his cheeks are windburned or he's chilled. He likes cats more than dogs, but doesn't own either-- his sister has allergies.

He still keeps up with his Fetbook while they're on vacation, posting daily, even if it's just a couple of sentences; Erik gets notifications every time Charles updates. It turns out Charles is notified whenever Erik posts something, too, and the morning Erik finally realizes he ought to change his relationship status with Charles to _Soulmates_ , Charles accepts the status change so quickly Erik hasn't even had time to close the Fetbook window. He spends the rest of the morning pulling Erik into hugs and smiling at him so brightly that Erik feels dazzled, even dizzy.

The other side of their bond still hasn't made itself felt, but Erik's rarely left wondering how Charles feels. He seems to have an endless supply of beautiful heartfelt smiles to lay Erik out with, and he's enormously affectionate, touching Erik even when they're not having sex, showering him with _I love you_ s, his thoughts laden with devotion Erik can feel for himself. No matter what they're communicating about, Charles always looks and feels at least a little happy when Erik starts speaking to him mind-to-mind.

This part feels familiar from all the way back when they were young: Charles is optimistic about _everything_ , from the state of mutant-human relations to the political outlook of the country in general to whether or not it's going to snow in the afternoon. Erik's not nearly so sanguine, but he ends up smiling anyway. More often than not, it's due to the nostalgia, as opposed to Charles's optimism in particular. Charles jokes that he'll take what he can get.

As engaged and enthusiastic as Charles in conversations, he's emphatically indifferent to television and movies, and seems bored when everyone else is absorbed in the TV, usually reaching for his Kindle-- Erik finds himself totally unsurprised that Charles has one.

From the sound of it, he doesn't have much time to get interested in TV shows; his social life in New York seems to be a nonstop parade of outings to restaurants and concerts and operas and plays.

Erik tries to imagine a bright side to that. He'd like the live music. He wouldn't even mind the opera if there's an orchestra with brass instruments. Maybe he could duck out of the plays and some of the restaurant get-togethers. At least most of Charles's friends are mutants.

Anyway, they might not end up in New York. Though he's starting to wonder what the hell Charles imagines he'd do with himself in Pittsburgh.

He's starting to wonder what _he's_ going to do with himself in Pittsburgh. At the beginning of the week it seemed so obvious that he needed more time, that he wasn't going to be able to switch gears and be someone's full-time submissive right away. But if things could be like they are here, then maybe waiting is just wasting their time...

It's easy to think that late at night when he's trying to fall asleep alone. It's easy to think that when he's reaching out for Charles's half of the bond, wondering if now is finally going to be the moment it flares back to life. And of course it's easy to think that when they're wrapped up together, exhausted and content.

But he still can't imagine changing his life to suit Charles, the way he had to change it before. He needs time-- they _both_ need time. Charles has a whole life in New York, responsibilities, people he's close to... no matter what he says about moving to Pittsburgh, seriously or in jest, he hasn't had time to really think about it. The only thing Erik can imagine that would be worse than going back to slave mode is offering that up and having Charles decide it's too much, that he can't be with Erik full-time.

His stomach is in knots on the 30th. One day left. It seems like nothing. There's no way one more day with Charles could possibly be enough.


	20. Christmas and New Year's 2008 (11/11)

"So what are you guys doing for New Year's up in Boston?" Jason asks. "I'm assuming you're hanging out with the family, but are you going to be there for the countdown, or just earlier?"

"Probably just earlier," Erik admits. It's their last night together. Their _last_ \-- no, he's not going to think about it like that. They're going to have more nights together, just not... not right now. But they'll see each other again soon.

Still. He's going to want as much time with Charles as he can get, he knows that much. Erik needs a good nine hours to drive back to Pittsburgh tomorrow. He can't really push the start time much further than two o'clock, not if he wants to make it in one go. Charles is flying out at two. He's already planning to take Charles to the airport, though they haven't talked about it in more than fits and starts of conversation.

This time last year, Erik was thinking about coming to New York for New Year's. He was going to see Jason, show up at a party that for all he knows Charles might actually have attended. He canceled at the last minute when it turned out Sebastian was in New York, too, and he remembers Jason saying _Let me take care of this._

_"What if it does something to him? What if it reconnects us and I_ kill _him? Being separated almost killed me, being connected to Sebastian hurt both of us..."_

_"It's all a risk, I get it, but how long are you going to live like this?"_

He's not living like that anymore. He has Charles now. And Sebastian's death did what Jason always thought it would: it set them free, reconnected them, gave them another chance. Erik needs to call Min Li; he owes her so much, even now, and he'll never forget what she lost, what it cost her to do it.

"So we'll make sure to drop in early," Jason says. "Where's the other half now?"

"Probably playing with Ben. You wouldn't believe how good he is with Ben, he's been--" Erik contains himself, a little; he'll never live it down if he starts sighing over his soulmate where Jason can hear him.

"I'm glad to hear it. How's he been with _you_?"

"He's perfect," Erik blurts out. It's easier over the phone, maybe; he's not sure he could talk about this face to face.

"Isn't that how it's supposed to go, with soulmates?" Jason asks. He used to sound wistful when he talked about it; he doesn't anymore.

"Not that kind of perfect."

"What, like a bad kind of perfect?" Jason jokes, but when Erik doesn't answer his voice turns serious. "Hey. Talk to me."

Erik grimaces. "Everything's okay, it's... I don't know how to explain it. He's like a dream dominant out of a novel, you know? He's understanding about the fucked up mess that happens every time I get near submission. He stops whenever I say stop or even when I just start to feel wrong. Even at the height of seeker rush. It's been days and I haven't been able to give him my submission once without screwing up, and he just says we'll work it out and we have plenty of time and he's happy with what we have now."

There's a short silence that Erik can easily guess is being filled, on Jason's end, with an illusionary representation of his reaction. A moment later, that's confirmed; from somewhere else, Kurt calls, "I have found your eyeballs, liebling, they have rolled beneath the bed!"

Rolling his eyes at that? Well, Erik's felt the same way at times, there's no way that 'happy with what we have now' can be totally sincere, but-- Jason interrupts him before he can think too much about it. "Okay-- I'm glad he's being understanding, but you gotta know, Erik... that's not perfect dream dom stuff. That's the minimum you should be able to expect."

"Come on. I know that's how people say it's supposed to be, but how many doms do you think actually act like that?"

"All the ones who don't suck?" Jason answers. "Seriously. Look, we both know where these low expectations are coming from, and have I mentioned lately that I'm glad he's dead, but you need to understand that no one should have to take what that evil motherfucker was dishing out to you. That's not how it should be. Stopping when you say stop is the the absolute least Charles can do. If he wasn't doing that, I'd be back there now to kick his ass. Me and my illusionary army of Terminators."

"I don't know about that," Erik says. "He's psionic. He might be immune to your illusionary Terminators." From what he gathers, it's not happening for Charles like it is for Erik, with his ability getting stronger every day. But then again, Charles is already strong enough to project and read thoughts and feelings with strong control over who he projects to, and what he receives. Very few of the psionics Erik's met over the years could do that much.

"Well, just me, then."

"And I found out the other day he used to box. I mean, as a sport, competitively."

"Yeah, I know, but in _England_ , and probably whatever weight class is under flyweight," Jason scoffs. "And don't try to change the subject, man. I'm just trying to tell you, I'm glad he seems like a good guy, but that stuff you're talking about isn't anything heroic. It's what you _should_ have. You're entitled to respect and patience and all the time you need."

"But he's going to want more sometime. I'd rather he was honest about it than just telling me everything's okay and he's happy just to be with me. There's no way that's going to last."

"Why not? You deserve someone who's happy just to be with you," Jason says. "I always was."

"You're different," Erik says. "You _know_ me." And even Jason stopped being interested in Erik's submission along the way, when it got to the point that Erik had to face the fact that he sucked at it. "And you and I, we were never--"

"I _know_ we were never," Jason snaps.

"I was going to say, exclusive. We were never exclusive."

"Huh," Jason says, the edge off his voice, at least for now. "So-- what? You think you and Charles would be better off if he saw other subs?"

Just thinking about it makes Erik's heart ache. "I don't want it to come to that."

"Okay. So... talk it out."

"We've _been_ talking, that's--"

«Erik?»

"Hang on," Erik tells Jason. To Charles, he sends a quick, «I'm fine, I'm all right. I'm still on the phone with Jason, we're just talking.»

«Do you want me to come up?»

«Give me a couple of minutes, I'll 'call out' when I'm ready.»

«All right, love.»

Back to Jason. "Where was I-- we've been talking, that's what I was trying to get at," he says impatiently, lifting a hand and floating a few coins off the dresser across the room, twirling them in the air. At times like these, he misses his windcatcher; he misses having the rings to play with.

"You've been talking... hey, was that him? Just now?"

"Yeah, he wanted to know if I wanted him to come upstairs."

"He's not in the room with you?"

"No, he was asking me telepathically." Erik can't help a grin at that. "We do a lot of that."

"I bet you do." Jason pauses. "Oh, man, not fair! I used to be the only one who could blank stuff out-- now you're going to be passing notes without me."

"Like I didn't catch you doing that a dozen times at the wedding. It's fantastic, though. It's so good _knowing_..."

He doesn't have to finish that sentence. Jason's been there through all of it. _Knowing I was right the whole time._

"Well, hopefully you're using some of that telepathic fun stuff to talk about the big things," Jason says. "Because if you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he should know that."

"He knows," Erik says defensively. "I mean, we've talked. I think he knows." Whether Charles gets it or not, that's something else. Erik sighs. If he can't talk about this to his best friend... "He doesn't want to think about contingencies."

"So far it doesn't sound like you _need_ to think about contingencies. Maybe just wait it out a little before you get to talking about emergency release valves or whatever-the-fuck. You have to admit, it takes some of the shine off the honeymoon if you're already talking about what to do if you don't work shit out."

"I just want that sorted out before--" _Before we go home,_ Erik wants to say, but it's hard to feel like anywhere that doesn't include Charles is _home_ , anymore. "Sooner instead of later," he finishes.

"Look, I get moving fast and wanting to sort out the big stuff right away, believe me. Pot can't call the kettle on shit here. But when it comes to your submission... Christ, Erik, you've only been together, really together, for a week. You've been struggling with submission for the last, what, five years?"

Struggling. It's more flattering than some of the ways Jason could have put it. "Something like that."

"Okay. So maybe you give yourself permission not to have that particular Pandora's Box solved just yet, and think about the stuff you _should_ be getting to in a week's time. Like, hey-- am I going to get an invite to your acknowledgment party at some point or what?"

"Of course you will." Erik winces. "It's just-- we're not quite there yet."

"After a _week_?"

Erik snorts. "You sound like your mom."

"Hey, now--"

"Although she's been nice about it. She's been giving us space. Everyone has. It's good here."

"Okay... last I heard you were heading back to Pittsburgh tomorrow," Jason says slowly. "What's the game plan now?"

"That's still it," Erik murmurs.

"Is Charles going with you?"

"Not just yet."

"Oh, Jesus, Erik. Are you all right?"

"I'm all right," Erik insists, right away. "We're just taking it all slowly. I don't want to be rushed on this. We're going to take some time, figure things out when we're not getting that boost from the bond. I want to go into everything with my eyes open this time."

"Okay. Right, okay, fair enough..." There's a rough explosion of breath on the other end of the line. "If there's anything I can do for you--"

"--anything _we_ can do, tell him that," Erik hears Kurt say.

"If there's anything Kurt and I can do for you," Jason tells him. "Just say the word. We'll be there as fast as Kurt can bamf."

"Thank you," Erik says. "It's going to be okay. It's going to suck being away from him, but I need the space right now. I wouldn't be going home if I didn't."

"Okay. Well, we'll see you tonight-- why don't we drop in around eight," his voice gets muffled as he addresses the next to Kurt, "is eight okay?"

"Ja," Kurt answers.

"Eight?"

"Eight should be fine by us. How's the honeymoon so far?"

"Busy," Jason laughs. "We're going to spend some time in Hawaii when we finish up our party night and just chill out for a week or so. Speaking of which, gotta run. Just about midnight in Hong Kong."

Erik shakes his head, laughing. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year to you, too. Love you."

"Love you, too."

\---

Erik's been upstairs for a while, on the phone with Jason-- Charles has been sensing all sorts of interesting emotions from him, most of them good. Learning the nuances of Erik's feelings, having the chance to see him and feel him, sense him with his ability and not just their bond-- it's been incredible, more leeway than he ever expected. Or at least more than he's expected in the last eight years.

But as the conversation goes on, Charles feels more than just good humor-- even raunchy humor-- and affection from his soulmate. He catches a wave of frustration, one that feels familiar after all this time together, and then a twist of heartache, of dread.

«Erik?»

«I'm fine, I'm all right,» Erik sends back, and the dread eases as soon as he starts sending words to Charles. «I'm still on the phone with Jason, we're just talking.»

Charles bites his lip, glancing over at the staircase. «Do you want me to come up?»

«Give me a couple of minutes, I'll 'call out' when I'm ready.»

It's reassuring hearing Erik promise that, knowing Erik's comfortable enough with Charles to call out telepathically. Charles has sworn he's never going to take Erik's tolerance of his telepathy for granted; how could he? His heart's in the words when he sends back, «All right, love.»

Erik's emotions tone down fairly quickly after that; soon enough it's down to affection and amusement and a thin thread of worry. Nothing Charles needs to race upstairs for, although the temptation definitely remains.

A few minutes later, Erik calls down, «All finished.»

He's already extricating himself from the Wii Sports golf tournament he was playing with Ben and Janine and Emily-- Rick, thankfully, comes over to take Charles's place-- and he heads upstairs, sending, «On my way,» as he goes.

The door swings open for him as soon as he approaches. Charles steps in and smiles; Erik's sprawled across the bed, not even looking up. "Could you feel me?"

"Mm-hm." Erik gives Charles's windcatcher a light tug. "Come on over."

As if Charles needs to be beckoned. He pauses when Erik swings the door shut and locks it, smiling at the metal doorknob and the lock, but he comes over to the bed and takes a seat next to Erik, sliding his hand up from Erik's hip to his chest. "How's Jason?"

"He's fine. He and Kurt will be here around eight." Erik covers Charles's hand with his own. "I asked him to come a little early, since I wasn't sure if we'd be ringing in the actual new year here or if we'd want to be alone."

Charles leans down and kisses Erik's forehead. "Whatever you'd like to do," he murmurs. "We can stay or we can go. I don't mind staying up late tonight, if you want to count down the new year here and then go back to ours."

"Thank you," Erik says. He tilts his face up, and Charles kisses him, full on the mouth this time. He can feel a bit of conflict in Erik's emotions, but nothing more clear than that. It doesn't seem to be about the kiss, but he can't put a finger on what _is_ going on in Erik's mind without reading more deeply.

When he draws away, he strokes Erik's hair, gently rubbing Erik's temple with his thumb. "Do you want to talk?"

Erik takes a deep breath and reaches out for him. "No. I don't think I want to _talk."_

It's clear enough where Erik wants him; Charles slides onto Erik's lap; sitting, not straddling him, as that seems too aggressive just now. "We have a few hours before anything's planned," Charles murmurs, leaning down, lips just above Erik's. "We could even go back to the hotel if you'd like more privacy."

"Not just yet," Erik says, smoothing his hands down Charles's sides. "But if you wouldn't mind some private time here..."

"Mind," Charles laughs. He drapes his arms around Erik's shoulders, one hand lightly strumming him at soul's-home. "I wouldn't mind."

«We'd have to be quiet,» Erik warns him, though from the pleased note in Erik's emotions, it feels more like a tease than a warning. «Do you think you could handle that?»

_Handle_ it. In the week he's spent with Erik, he's talked mind-to-mind more than he thinks he's done in the last few years put together. All those fantasies he had as a boy-- well, as a boy he didn't know what he was doing, what harm he was causing, but he knows better now, and the Psychitrex keeps it safe for them. They can share, this way. And Erik's gifted him, over and over, with acceptance.

«I can do more than handle it,» Charles assures him, sharing a broad grin with his soulmate. _His._

«Me, too,» Erik thinks. He reaches up and trails his fingertips across the back of Charles's neck. «What would you like to do?»

«Pick a number between one and twenty-three trillion,» Charles teases, bending down to kiss Erik's cheeks, his nose, the broad stubbled line of his jaw. «I did have _one_ thought, in particular...» He's been working on more ideas about how to scene with Erik without Erik losing himself, and it does feel as if they've made a bit of progress over the course of the week.

«Where should I be?» Erik asks, not _Where do you want me._

«You're perfect just where you are.» Charles presses his arse down, feeling Erik's cock through his jeans... a week together rife with seeker rush and enthusiastic sex, and they still haven't managed to do _that_ , though Charles has been dying to feel Erik's cock inside him.

And the reason for that rears its head again as Erik asks, «You don't mind this?» It's getting more and more difficult to stop himself launching into a lecture to explain that the conflation of topping during penetrative sex with domination is primarily a cultural construct, unfair and insulting to dommes, not to mention terribly inconvenient for dominant men who enjoy being fucked a great deal-- but he's been trying very hard not to argue with Erik about what he wants. It seems like enough of an effort just getting Erik to talk about his urges in the first place, and it's only their first week together; and it's not as if Charles minds fucking Erik as long and often as Erik wants...

«I don't mind,» Charles thinks.

Erik's doubts are too evident when he sends, «I appreciate that you're trying to keep me off the floor, but you should be comfortable too.» Erik settles his hands lower, on Charles's hips. «This isn't exactly a dominant position.»

«It's a dominant position when I'm in it,» Charles returns easily. He feels a twinge of dismay from Erik, and a subtle surge of envy. Only belatedly does he realize that was probably a bit much, considering. He's accustomed to responding with confidence when people question his orientation, but Erik scarcely needs reminding when he can hardly keep himself off his knees around Charles. «I'm sorry, darling, I don't mean to be glib.»

Erik just shakes his head. «It's fine-- this just isn't what I was picturing...»

«All right. What were you picturing?» Charles asks. He levers himself up, straightening his arms and resting his hands on Erik's shoulders. It's not a firm hold, Erik could get out from under Charles's weight with nothing more than a slight shift of his body or a single thought, but it seems to settle Erik down right away. Charles leans more of his weight against Erik's shoulders, and he can feel the arousal lighting Erik up, surging through his whole body.

Charles reaches with one hand to cup Erik's face. Erik turns his cheek into the contact, eyes closing; Charles may never get over how he can feel so tender about Erik and so intent on fucking him and claiming him, all at once. It's almost better right now that Erik isn't showing throat with this move. Some days it's been hard to balance those three urges, and today of all days, with Charles's flight tomorrow and Erik driving back to Pittsburgh... part of Charles wants to send him home with marks he can show off to everyone he knows, so there won't be any confusion. _You're mine._

He backs off, pressing his hands to Erik's chest, and Erik gets his eyes open again, smiling up at him. «I did think... when I pulled you up on top of me, I thought... if you wanted, you could touch us. Both. Like this.»

Charles glances down between them and grins. «Let's get some clothes off, then.»

Erik's bright-eyed, pleased look nearly melts Charles all on its own, but the warmth and depth of feeling behind it means even more. Charles slides off Erik's body and lets Erik start stripping his clothes off, and Erik gives Charles room to do the same. They've become deft at this, especially during the times they've run off for a few moments alone at the Wyngardes'; in scarcely a minute, they're both naked, eyes roaming greedily over one another's bodies.

«Coming back?» Erik teases. It stings, though; Charles can't help the first thought that goes through his mind, _I will if you will._ Erik winces, as if realizing what he said, and sits up, grabbing for Charles's hand and tugging him close.

«I love you,» Charles sends, climbing onto Erik's lap again, straddling him this time. Erik scoots them both back and grabs for pillows, shoving them behind him so he can sit up. Charles can't argue with the effect; it puts them eye-to-eye, gives him the perfect angle to cup Erik's face and kiss him, over and over, memorizing Erik's taste with every stroke of his tongue.

«I love you, too.» Erik kisses him back ardently, his hands everywhere-- but it's not quite the eager flurry of motion it's been time after time, and Charles can sense a little confusion radiating through their bond. After a few seconds, Erik draws back. "I'm sorry, I like this, I thought this would work, I'm just--" He gives Charles a sheepish look. "I've never done anything in this position before, I'm not quite sure where I should be touching you. Especially if you're going to..." He nods at the scant space between them, at Charles's erection, pressed against Erik's stomach, Erik's cock firm against Charles's thigh.

"I will, don't worry about _that_ ," Charles murmurs, leaning in and brushing another kiss across Erik's lips. He means for it to be sweet, reassuring, but it's only a fraction of a second before he's nipping Erik's lower lip and pressing close to him, one hand reaching up to soul's-home. The idea that they're forging new territory for Erik... that Erik hasn't done certain things, that there are still ways that Charles can be his _first_... it's really counter to everything he believes, the things he teaches, but knowing there are ways in which Erik is his and his alone makes Charles want to stamp his claim all over Erik, ensure that no hints of memory stand even a chance of competing with him.

As he strokes Erik's joining spot, Erik groans and bends his head forward, letting his forehead rest against Charles's. «There,» Charles thinks, caressing him, stroking soul's-home over and over again. «I have you. You're mine.»

«Yours,» Erik thinks back, nothing but bliss in his feelings. He settles on wrapping his arms around Charles's back, and Charles grins; one more stolen kiss, and he reaches between them, scooting just the slightest bit closer and positioning himself a little better, angling his cock down so he can take both of them in hand.

His hands are smaller than Erik's; when Erik's wrapped them both in his long fingers, it's been easy, practically relaxing, but Charles grips them both much more tightly, stroking hard. It sends both of them into pleased gasps, and Erik squirms underneath Charles, arms tightening around his back. Charles bears his weight down on Erik's legs, keeping him in place. «I have you,» he sends. «Is it good, is it all right, are you still with me...?»

"I'm here," Erik gasps aloud. He bends forward, presses his mouth against Charles's shoulder. «I'm here. I'm still here. Oh, God, don't stop, please...» Charles feels Erik's pang of worry, and Erik's teeth rest lightly against Charles's skin for a moment before Erik draws back. «I mean _just don't stop_.»

«I won't stop,» Charles promises. «I'm right here with you, stay with me...»

His turn at having said something that means more than he intended, but Erik just clings to him, nodding against his shoulder. «Yes. I'm here. I'm _with you_.» He starts moving his hips, trying to thrust into Charles's hand. «Charles--»

«I'm here.» Charles leans forward, squeezes Erik's joining spot, and Erik's scrambling forward for the kiss as soon as Charles offers it, his mouth open and hot against Charles's. Every time they kiss it's like finding a missing part of himself-- and of course it is, it's _Erik_ , the part of Charles who was missing for eight long, painful years.

«I want to,» Erik thinks at him, «can I, oh God, I should wait, but I just _can't_ , it's you, you're here, I love you so much, Charles...»

It's hard for Charles to think straight with Erik's mind seeking his out that way, but it doesn't sound like Erik's slipping down-- he feels happy, if a bit nervous about wanting to come so quickly. Charles laughs against Erik's lips and nods, kissing his lips over and over again. «I want you to,» he sends. «I want to feel that, Erik, come for me, come _now_ \--»

With a little surprised grunt, Erik does-- Charles feels it, the sticky jets of Erik's come between them, the hot rush of it falling down over his hand. He smooths a palmful over their cocks and keeps stroking, letting Erik's orgasm pull him over, too, his own come adding to the mess on their thighs and stomachs-- they may have to sneak into the bathroom for a quick shower after all this. At least the Wyngardes have been taking all this in stride.

He presses himself as tightly as he can against Erik and kisses him one more time, feeling it as Erik gasps for breath between kisses. "I'm here," he murmurs, again. "I'm here, love... are you with me...?"

Erik nods, squeezing Charles tightly. "I'm here," he whispers, hoarse. "I'm here with you. I'm _here_."

It sounds and feels as if he means so much more than just _I haven't fallen into headspace_ ; Charles can't help but get his arms around Erik now, hold onto him while Erik rests his head against Charles's shoulder. 

It's possible that he'd have felt this tender towards Erik even if they'd met under completely benign circumstances, but just now, the fact that Erik trusts him enough to hold him, to take comfort from him, feels as though it means the world.

He knows their time is growing short; he knows tomorrow they have to start a new chapter of their lives, together but separate, at least for now. But they have the rest of tonight, and anything could happen. Erik could change his mind about needing _that_ much space. He could say, _come to Pittsburgh, we'll find you a place close by_...

It's dangerous to fantasize about that, though. He needs to appreciate the wonder this week has been, he can't brood about going back to Manhattan alone and unacknowledged.

Charles takes a deep breath and kisses the side of Erik's neck. «I'm glad we'll get to start the New Year together.»

Erik nods, holding on to him. «I'm glad, too,» he sends, thoughts warm and bright in Charles's mind.

\---

Jason and Kurt arrive just after eight, both of them in tuxes and tails. Erik laughs as they make their entrance-- dramatic as always, the two of them materializing in a whiff of smoke at the top of the stairs at Pat and Rick's house-- and then Jason illusions up a slide to replace the staircase and they zoom down it, holding each other and laughing.

"Happy New Year," Erik says, coming over and pulling Jason into a hug. Charles is standing at his side, of course, and he shakes hands with Kurt while Jason puts his hands on Erik's shoulders and looks him over. Whatever he sees, it's good enough; he hugs Erik again and then trades with Kurt, shaking Charles's hand while Kurt wraps arms and tail around Erik and squeezes. Erik laughs and hugs Kurt back, giving him a pair of friendly slaps on the back.

"We just rang in the New Year in Rio!" Kurt says, once all hugs and handshakes have been properly exchanged. "This has been my best New Year's ever." He beams at Jason. "Like having a honeymoon inside a honeymoon."

"Watch me not even complain a little," Jason says, leaning over and kissing Kurt's cheek. "We've been catching little catnaps here and there. It's about to get way easier, we don't have a lot of places to go in the States, as it turns out."

"So many countries in Europe," Kurt agrees, and lets out a yawn, his tail stretching out behind him. "I have not had such a workout in a long time!"

"That's not what you said a couple days ago," Jason teases, sweeping his hand over Kurt's tail from base to tip.

Kurt laughs as he leans in, and Erik reaches for Charles's hand, lacing their fingers together. Charles steps a little closer, and it's so easy to turn and lean down for him, kiss him while Jason and Kurt share their own little moment. «I love you,» Erik thinks.

«I love you, too. I can feel how happy you are for them.»

«Not just for them.» After a moment, Erik backs off, and when he looks back at Jason, he can't help laughing-- Kurt's gotten Jason's hair thoroughly ruffled, undoubtedly with the tip of his tail, and instead of smoothing it out or covering it with an illusion, Jason's letting it stand. "Now that's love," Erik says, and Charles squeezes his hand, smiling at everyone.

In the end, they don't stay too late; after sharing an impromptu countdown at nine o'clock with the Wyngardes and Jason and Kurt, Erik gathers up the rest of their things and loads them into the car. Charles says good-bye to the Wyngardes as Jason pulls Erik aside for one last talk; he holds up a finger and then nods. "Blanked," he says. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Erik says. "Why do you keep asking if I'm okay?"

"Because I don't want you to crash and burn tomorrow when you have to take off for Pittsburgh." Jason glances back across the room at Charles, who's exchanging air kisses with Janine. "I want you to be happy."

"It's going to be okay," Erik says. He takes Jason by the upper arms and looks solidly into his eyes. "I know what I'm doing. I know what I _want_. It's going to be okay."

"If you need anything--"

"I know. Thank you." Erik pulls Jason into a hug, and Jason hugs him back. When they separate, Jason stops blanking them, and Charles walks over, slipping his hand into Erik's. Erik has his own rounds to make at the Wyngardes', but he ends all the good-byes with a hug and a kiss to Pat's cheek. "Thank you for everything," Erik tells her. "This week meant the world to us."

"I know," she says, patting his shoulder. She looks at Charles, and while she's been friendly and kind to Charles all week long, there's a hint of sternness on her face as she looks at him now. "Take care of him."

"I will," Charles promises, squeezing Erik's hand all the tighter. "Always."

Erik squeezes Charles's hand in return. "Ready?"

Charles looks up at him, and if ever there's been a time he's seen Charles's heart in his eyes, it's now. "For anything."

"Then let's go."

\---

It's a quick drive to their hotel, and between the two of them, they don't have any difficulty getting the rest of their things into the suite in one trip. Erik handles the door with his ability, which makes Charles smile at him, ear-to-ear-- he's never going to tire of seeing Erik use his ability, and the idea that he'll get to watch as Erik grows stronger and stronger... he doesn't know how he could feel more lucky, having this man as his soulmate.

Erik's emotions have become steadier tonight, settling into something that feels like certainty, but Charles hasn't wanted to risk that tranquility by asking him what it means. It's going to be nearly impossible to part ways in the afternoon, tomorrow; whatever Erik's done or thought or decided that's making tonight easier for him, Charles wants him to have it for as long as he can.

"Is there anything special you'd like to do tonight?" Charles asks; he rests on the sofa in the living room, and Erik sits next to him, wrapping his arm around Charles's shoulders. Charles tucks in against him; not for the first time, he's awed by how good they feel together, how easily he fits under Erik's arm.

"There is something," Erik murmurs. He strokes Charles's hair for a moment, then kisses the top of his head. "What about you?"

"I think I'd like one of everything," Charles teases, getting his arm around Erik's waist. "I'd like to give you whatever it is you want. Tell me?"

Erik turns slightly, angling down for a kiss, and Charles opens to it without hesitation. There's a little bit of nervousness in Erik's emotions, but there's certainty, too-- it feels like he's made a decision. It's all Charles can do to stay calm; he wants so much to know what that decision is, what it's going to mean for the two of them...

After a while, Erik draws back, settling his hand on the side of Charles's neck, his thumb brushing Charles's jawline. They're still close enough that their foreheads are touching.

«Tell me?»

Erik takes a breath. "Jason's family has a tradition. It's not very official, but I've seen them do it over the years on New Year's Eve. Pat describes it as 'start as you mean to go on', so she tries to surround herself with family on New Year's Eve. Jason and Kurt are together, using their abilities, and traveling the world."

"It's a good tradition," Charles agrees, reaching up to cup Erik's face with one hand. "What about you? How would you like to go on?"

Erik turns his face down and kisses the inside of Charles's palm. Whatever has him feeling nervous must be tied up with this; Charles holds his breath, waiting for it.

"Acknowledged," Erik says softly, looking back up into Charles's eyes. Charles stares at him in shock for a few seconds-- and then launches himself at Erik, kissing him again, arms around his neck.

«Yes. _Yes_. Erik, yes, there's nothing I want more, of course, _yes_.»

Erik laughs even as he's kissing Charles back, both hands stroking through Charles's hair. He draws back to look into Charles's eyes-- Charles can feel dampness at his lashes, but to hell with it, Erik wants to _acknowledge_ , he's allowed to feel this much at this moment. "I love you," Erik breathes. «I love you, Charles. I want to acknowledge you.»

Charles has to hold himself back from starting the traditional words-- _I, Charles Xavier, acknowledge you--_ It's realizing that they may be only minutes away from saying them that draws the first tear down his cheek. Erik brushes it away; Charles can see that Erik has tears of his own threatening. «I love you, too,» Charles sends. «How do you want to do it?»

«Here. With just the two of us. Tonight. If you don't mind being alone for it.» Erik catches one of Charles's hands in his. «I'm ready now. I want it to be now. If you're ready, too, I mean--»

Charles lifts Erik's hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across his knuckles. «I'm ready now, tonight. I don't need anything but you.» There's no way to convey how it feels to know Erik wants him-- not for a week's affair, but for everything that acknowledgment means. Sleeping together, at last; waking up with their bond stronger than ever. Being able to tell his friends, _We've acknowledged,_ and feeling Erik's love through an acknowledged bond. After all these years of uncertainty, after all these months of doubt, knowing that Erik _wants_ Charles to be this much a part of him, always.

"I love you," Erik breathes. He looks around for a moment and slides off the couch, his ability pushing the coffee table aside to clear a space. Charles bites his lip against the urge to tell Erik _it's all right, you don't have to kneel_ , because Erik's already on his knees, and if that's how he wants to be-- Charles will stop breathing for a while, if that's what it takes to preserve this moment. He's never seen anything as beautiful as the way Erik looks right now, eyes shining, looking up at him, so in love he almost glows with it.

"I, Erik Lehnsherr," Erik says-- his voice is rough, but he's one up on Charles now. Charles isn't sure he'll be able to keep his voice from breaking when it's his turn to say the words. "--acknowledge you, Charles Xavier, as my soulmate."

Charles reaches down and takes both of Erik's hands in his, bending his face down to them. His tears are flowing openly now, but he can't care about that, not when he's feeling so much love and acceptance from Erik-- things he never thought he'd have from anyone, let alone the soulmate he believed had abandoned him when he was sixteen.

_I'm sorry,_ he thinks, keeping those thoughts firmly to himself. He'll apologize later for all the things he thought and did, but not now, not in the middle of their acknowledgment. "I, Charles Xavier," he says, and his voice does shake, but his words are clear, "acknowledge you, Erik Lehnsherr, as my soulmate." His memory hasn't been as immediate since he started on the Psychitrex, but a phrase comes instantly to mind. He remembers researching modern interfaith ketubahs, on the days when hope outweighed fear; he wondered what sort of wedding Erik would have wanted, and if it would have meant something to Erik to know that Charles wanted to give him that, all the promises he wanted to make when he was sixteen... that he wants to make, still, today. «I pledge myself to you today, and all of my tomorrows.»

Erik tilts his head, eyebrows drawing together. «What...?»

Charles bites his lower lip; of course Erik wouldn't know where the quote came from, there were dozens, Charles had any number of vows to read and commit to memory. «I looked at ketubahs, before the wedding... it's too much, I know, I didn't mean to--»

The shocked look on Erik's face is coupled with a flood of love, relief, affection-- so many things, all of them good, as Erik scrambles up on his knees and wraps his arms around Charles's shoulders. Charles holds him tightly, feeling Erik's shoulders shake as Erik finally lets himself break down.

«For me. You did that for me.» He doesn't try to speak; his thoughts are barely coming through in words at all. But they hold all of Erik's love and relief, and if there's one thing Charles has learned the shape of by now, it's how Erik feels when he wants something. He wants this.

«I'd do anything for you.» Charles holds him tight, stroking a hand over Erik's hair, curving it against soul's-home. «My commitment to you, and yours to me, binds us together.»

At that, Erik laughs. «I don't have anything memorized for this! I should have... I knew what I _hoped_ for, I thought we might...» His hand finds soul's-home, too, his fingers warm against the back of Charles's head. Their windcatcher flutters against Charles's chest. «I knew I wanted to acknowledge you. I didn't know if we could do it this soon.»

«I'm so glad. I would have waited--» Charles kisses Erik's cheek, moves down to kiss his jawline, his chin, stubble feathering against his lips. «I would have waited, as long as it took. I know this is a risk, I know it takes a lot of trust. Thank you.»

«Thank you for waiting.» Erik slides both arms around Charles, and Charles leans in against him, closing his eyes. "Mine," Erik whispers, brushing a kiss to Charles's temple. "I acknowledge you. You're _mine_."

A traditional dominant would have expected to say that, not to hear it; Charles is grateful, not for the first time, that he's not stuck on tradition. It feels so good, hearing that from Erik-- _you're mine_. "Yours," Charles whispers in return. "I acknowledge you. I'm yours."

It seems completely natural, moving to the bed after that. Even though they won't be sleeping for a while yet, even though it isn't another instance of feverishly-paced need stemming from seeker rush... being close after finally acknowledging one another feels right. Charles stretches out at Erik's side, and Erik draws Charles on top of him, Erik's hands roaming up and down Charles's back, neither one of them bothering to get out of their clothes just yet.

Charles puts soft kisses on Erik's face, up and down along the length of his jaw, and when Erik tilts his chin up to give Charles access to his throat-- _neck_ \-- Charles presses his face there and breathes out unsteadily.

«What is it...?»

«I just wondered if I could...» Charles kisses the side of Erik's neck. He's been careful about marking Erik this past week, concerned it would put Erik into headspace, and they were spending so much time with the Wyngardes. But Erik's going to be back in Pittsburgh soon, and while Charles isn't proud of this impulse, he wants his marks on Erik's body now. He wants Erik's friends to see it, to know Erik belongs to someone-- to _him_...

«Charles,» Erik sends. He strokes Charles's hair and nudges him gently, until Charles looks up and meets his eyes. «I want you to. I want to tell _everyone_. I found my soulmate, we acknowledged over New Year's, and soon he'll be coming to Pittsburgh--» Charles's heart leaps at that, pounding so hard in his chest he's surprised Erik can't feel it. «--so we can work out where we're going to live.»

«Any time,» Charles promises, leaning forward and kissing Erik, hands slipping to the back of Erik's neck, reaching up for his joining spot. «I'll come any time you want me, just tell me, it can be Pittsburgh, it's all right if it's Pittsburgh--»

Erik kisses him back, and suddenly it's more than that, more than just kissing, it's the urgency they've had since they met taking hold again. Erik's hands move to the buttons on Charles's jumper vest, and Charles sits up, impatient enough to pull the jumper over his head and start on his shirt buttons. Beneath him, Erik tugs his t-shirt off and tosses it aside, and as soon as Charles has his shirt undone, he helps Charles pull that off, too, and scrambles to get Charles's undershirt off besides. As soon as he's down to bare skin-- at least above the waist-- Erik reaches out, palm cupped over his windcatcher, gently holding it against Charles's chest. Charles folds his hand over Erik's and meets Erik's eyes.

"I'm yours," Erik says quietly. "I acknowledge you."

"I'm yours," Charles offers back. Not _you're mine_ , he needs to be careful, Erik needs Charles to stay aware of his headspace... "I'm yours, Erik. I acknowledge you."

It doesn't take long to get out of the rest of their clothes, and this time when Charles touches Erik, he doesn't hold back. He sucks hard on Erik's hip, drawing up a bruise when Erik asks for it. He climbs up and makes love to Erik's shoulders, and when Erik sends, «Please, bite me,» Charles makes every bite count. 

Erik's body is beautiful, long and lean and _his_ to mark, but every mark Charles leaves, he leaves because Erik wants him to, _asks_ him to-- if Charles has anything to say about it, Erik's never going to bear another mark he doesn't want. Everything's going to be different for him, now that they're together. Charles will do whatever it takes to ensure it.

When the need wells up for both of them, when there's nothing they can give each other but their arousal and desire for each other, Charles rolls to his back and draws Erik up on top of him, letting Erik sink down on him, watching as Erik moves. Erik braces himself against Charles's chest, one hand tracing the windcatcher, the other giving him the leverage to slam himself down on Charles's cock again and again, and Charles can see every mark he's left on Erik, every bite, every bruise, every reddened, darkening claim he's made. It's so difficult to hold back the words _you're mine_ that he ends up biting his lip to keep them in, sending out «I'm yours» over and over instead, but the love singing through their bond means he can't regret a moment of this. «I'm with you. I'm _yours_.»

«Yes,» Erik sends back. His words slip loose, his thoughts shattering as he gets close-- «I'm yours, you're mine, we're acknowledged, I acknowledge you, we're here, you found me, you _found_ me--»

Charles reaches up, fingertips skating over Erik's arms. «I'll always be there,» he promises-- he might have pushed Erik away once, but never again. Whatever it takes-- «I'll always be here, I love you, I'm yours--»

«Touch me,» Erik sends, not a plea this time, not asking. Charles grins up at him and wraps his hand around Erik's cock, and Erik tilts his head back, gasping for it. «Yes-- I want-- _Charles_ \--»

«I'm here,» Charles sends, giving Erik one more heavy twist, just where he needs it most. He doesn't have to order Erik to come; Erik comes on his own, streaking Charles's wrist and his stomach with it, gasping as he slams himself down on Charles's cock over and over. His mind floods Charles's with the emotion from that-- love, need, arousal, the incredible high of going over. He's beautiful, and Charles can't hold back any more than Erik could; he closes his eyes and plants his feet and comes, rocking up into Erik's body and letting Erik take him in, every cell in his body feeling aligned with Erik's. « _Yours_ , yes--!»

When Erik finally climbs down and stretches out beside him, Charles curls up with him, tucking his face against Erik's shoulder. «Acknowledged,» he sends, smiling so hard his cheeks are beginning to ache with it. «I could fall asleep just like this...»

«We both could, now,» Erik sends. «Do you want to? Should I get us a washcloth first...?»

«We could be covered in honey for all I'd care just now,» Charles can't help sending. Erik laughs, pulling Charles closer and kissing his hair. «But I'll get you anything you want.»

Erik responds by tugging the sheet up over them. "The hell with it," Erik murmurs. "I've been waiting all week to be able to do this. Let's not wait."

«I've been waiting so much longer than a week,» Charles sends, wrapping his arm around Erik's waist and snuggling in as close as he can get. «I love you.»

Erik lets out a long, soft breath and kisses Charles's temple. «I love you, too.»

\---

They nap for around an hour, which surprises Erik. After that, Charles wriggles out from under Erik and heads for the bathroom.

Erik stays put, and holds his breath while Charles is gone. He feels like the point of a compass, seeking out magnetic north, but it isn't north he's facing. It's Charles.

He turns over, facing away from the bathroom door, just to see if that thread moves or changes. It might be his imagination; it might not be their bond, coming back. They were asleep for an hour; it usually takes all night for bonds to start weaving together, deepening a connection.

But Charles's presence is different, clearer, and when he comes back, Erik feels him before he hears him. He climbs into bed and kisses the back of Erik's neck, and Erik reaches for his hand and squeezes.

"You feel excited," Charles murmurs, nuzzling against soul's-home. "I was going to apologize for waking you, but it doesn't feel as though I need to."

Erik draws Charles's arm around his chest and hugs him as closely as he can. «Will you do something for me?»

«Anything,» Charles sends. Erik can't feel Charles's emotions, but Charles feels stronger to him now. It can't be his imagination.

But he can find out. «Would you go down the hall for ice? I'm thirsty.»

«Of course, darling.» Charles kisses his joining spot one more time and slips out of bed, gathering his bathrobe from the closet. «Won't be a tick.»

Erik flips over on his back as Charles leaves the room, the door clicking quietly shut behind him. The thread of connection pulls tight, but Erik feels it, every step, every turn. He can feel Charles's movement the way he could when he was a teenager, and as Charles comes back to their room, Erik takes a deep breath and tugs at the handle, swinging the door open from all the way in bed.

Charles is grinning ear-to-ear when he comes back in, setting the ice bucket on the table near the window, but as soon as he reaches the bed, he stops. "Are you all right?" And of course he'd have to ask; Erik's eyes are shining, his heart too full for words. Charles reaches out and touches Erik's cheek. Erik turns in to that touch. "Thank you for getting the door, love, were you tracking me by this again?" He indicates the windcatcher against his chest.

Erik takes a deep breath and looks up at Charles again. "It wasn't that," he whispers. He catches Charles's hand in his and kisses his palm. "I _felt_ you."

"You--" Charles's eyes widen, and he leans down, kissing Erik, letting Erik pull him down into a hug. «Do you think...»

«I think,» Erik sends, reaching up and cupping Charles at soul's-home. «I think we're going to get it back.»

\---

Counting down midnight is quiet, for the two of them, both of them bundled up in their hotel bathrobes; Erik brings Charles's watch over from the bedside table and watches as the display ticks down the seconds.

"Three," he murmurs. "Two. One..."

"Happy New Year," Charles says, and leans over to kiss him. Erik floats the watch back to the bedside table as he wraps his arms around Charles, holding him close. The kiss lasts well into the early minutes of 2009; Erik doesn't let Charles go until they're both smiling too much to keep it up.

"I always imagined having someone to kiss on New Year's," Erik admits.

Charles gets his arms around Erik's waist and hugs him closer. «So did I,» he sends, burying his face against Erik's chest. Erik can feel the tension building in him, and Charles's thoughts have a tone of anxiety, maybe even an early hint of grief. They still have hours and hours before Charles's flight, before Erik has to leave; Erik strokes Charles's back and hugs him tightly.

«It's going to be all right. _Every day_ , Charles. I'll call you every day, we'll talk, we'll make plans... I have a conference in Mill Point at the end of the month, maybe we could meet there. I've always wanted to go.»

Charles clutches at Erik's robe. «I'd love to go with you.»

«Then it's settled. Mill Point, end of the month. I'll write, we'll work out the timing.» Erik's half of the bond must seem flooded with relief; he didn't know how badly he needed firm plans until they were out there. His conference... Erik doesn't remember the dates, exactly, but he knows it's January twenty-something... the 23rd? the 24th? A lot of people he knows are taking a vacation there before or after the conference; he hadn't anticipated doing that, since he took so much time off for Jason's wedding, but he has plenty of vacation time banked, and things are different now. Now there's Charles. «Let's get there sooner rather than later.»

«Sooner, yes. As soon as you want. Pittsburgh isn't far, Erik, I'll come any time you want me...»

«I want you.» Erik eases back to look at Charles; Charles's face is streaked with tears, and Erik brushes one away with his fingertip. «I acknowledge you. You're _mine_. Don't ever doubt that I want you.»

Nodding, Charles presses his face against Erik's shoulder again. «I won't. I promise. Sooner, sooner rather than later, that sounds good. That's good.»

Erik cups him at soul's-home, and breathes into it as Charles calms down. «I'm yours, Charles.» He knows it to his bones; he knows that if Charles were any other dom, he'd have put Erik on the floor tonight. And it's because Erik can afford to trust him that he can be so sure of this. «I'm yours. That won't change, now.»

«I know.» Charles kisses a path up Erik's neck, finally leaning back to meet his eyes. «I do know.»

It's impossible to see a look like that and not be drawn in completely. Erik smiles at Charles-- _his_ acknowledged soulmate. «I'm glad it's you.»

Charles reaches up and smooths his thumb over Erik's cheek. «I feel lucky. Being with you this week has meant so much to me.»

«It means everything to me, too.» Once again, it feels like words aren't remotely sufficient to express it. «I needed you so much, all these years... and now we have each other.»

«We have each other,» Charles confirms. «I'm with you. I always will be.»

For once, they're not awake much past midnight. Erik slides into Charles's arms, and not for the first time, he marvels at how much it feels as though he belongs there, curled up with his other half, both their souls finally at rest. _Together._


	21. Working It Out (1/?)

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**! You have [1] new notification!

_Relationship status change requested:_ **Charles Xavier** wants to change his relationship status with you to: **Acknowledged**

_Relationship status changed:_ You are now Acknowledged with **Charles Xavier**

_Status updated:_ Back in Pittsburgh. I miss Boston, and Charles, already. For anyone who didn't hear this yet, Charles and I acknowledged on New Year's Eve. I couldn't be happier. :)  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ I miss you, too. I love you. I'm very proud to be acknowledged with you.  
→ _Pat Wyngarde:_ YAY!!!! Congratulations!  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Congrats!  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Congratulations! :D~  
→ _Magda Maximoff:_ Congratulations! I wish you both the best.  
→ View all 23 comments

\---

Welcome back to Fetbook, **Charles Xavier**! You have [1] new notification!

_Relationship status changed:_ You are now Acknowledged with **Erik Lehnsherr**

_Status updated:_ Looks like Erik beat me to the announcement... we acknowledged over New Year's, and we're working out the rest now. Those of you with contacts at CM, Pitt, Penn State, IUP, I'll want to talk to you at your earliest convenience. :)  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ It could still be New York! I've been sending emails to my contacts at Tailored Jewelworks and some other places... and by the way, I love you, too.  
→ _Raven Darkholme:_ Awwww.  
→ _Irene Adler:_ Good luck, you two!  
→ _Charles Xavier:_ Thank you. :)  
→ _Tony Stark:_ Congrats! Also no hard feelings, right?  
→ _Alex Summers:_ Glad you're doing better!  
→ _Armando Muñoz:_ Let us know if you've got time for dinner before you're off to Mill Point!  
→ _Raven Darkholme:_ Ooooo, Mill Point! Guess it took your soulmate to finally talk you into it, huh?  
→ _Sharon Marko:_ Charles, we missed you at Christmas and the New Year, but congratulations, dear. Do stop in at home next time you can, we haven't had a chance to talk in a while.  
→ View all 56 comments

\---

It's been a week since Erik came back to Pittsburgh, and every day Charles's marks fade a little more.

He's been getting congratulations from everyone he knows, both in person and on Fetbook-- it seems like everyone he knows has found and friended him by now, and as much as it galled him to add "Erik Shaw" under former names, that did help. He and Charles are texting so often that Erik's seriously considering trading in his iPhone for a Droid. The keyboard would be nice.

When they were saying goodbye at the airport in Boston, two and a half weeks apart didn't seem like so much; the idea of Charles flying out to be with Pittsburgh for the weekends sounded like an absurd expense. After a week without him, though, Erik's counting down the hours until they meet in Mill Point. He misses Charles so much that sometimes it's hard to remember why he needed space to begin with.

"I'm all right," Charles reassures him. Erik closes his eyes and feels out for his end of the bond-- he still can't feel Charles's emotions, but since they woke up acknowledged, he's been able to feel Charles's presence, strong and vibrant, the bond pointing east. "It's one more week. Seven days. And then we have two weeks together." He pauses. "Are _you_ all right...?"

Erik sighs, rolling onto his back. Whatever Charles is getting from the bond, it can't be easy to interpret. Erik's _all right_ , yes-- for the first time since he was seventeen, he knows where his soulmate is, and he's in love. He's safe. They both are.

But being in Pittsburgh while Charles is in New York-- he can't help but be frustrated by that. And at the same time, he has Helix, MFMR, his friends in the mutant community-- he doesn't want to uproot his whole life and remake himself in his dominant's image.

"I miss being with you," Erik admits. "If I could teleport, I'd be going to New York to sleep with you every night."

"If I could teleport, I'd split the difference with you. Half our nights in Pittsburgh, half in New York," Charles offers. "I could simulate teleportation, it would just take an hour and a half per trip." He laughs, but Erik's starting to understand the nuances of that laugh-- he's serious. "Honestly, I know people whose daily commutes are that long. Longer."

It's getting harder to say no to him. Erik drapes an arm over his face. If he gives in on this now, what else is he going to end up saying yes to? Moving away from his community? He's looked up Charles's address in New York; Charles doesn't even live in a mutant neighborhood. It spooks Erik, how much he's tempted to join Charles there anyway. How much he feels as though he should accept every suggestion Charles makes, to at least say yes when Charles offers to fly to Pittsburgh any time the whim strikes to visit. Will he offer to quit his job next? Give up his name? Stay home all day in sub drag, waiting on Charles hand and foot?

_Admit it. Part of you wants all of that._ Erik sighs. "You were just saying yourself-- it's only seven days. We can make it that long."

"I know," Charles says quickly. "I know we can, I just want--"

"I know. I want that, too--"

"I was going to say, I just want you to have whatever you need."

"Yeah," Erik says softly. That's the problem.

\---

Erik: [Having macaroni and cheese out of a box for dinner tonight. How about you?]

Charles: [I'm out with friends, Angel and Janos. We've only ordered starters so far. Ahi tuna tartare with avocado coulis. Quite good!]

Erik: [This is one of my go-to comfort foods. I might be wild later and make popcorn.]

Charles: [Do you need comforting? How was your day?]

Erik: [Not the best. One of the kids at Helix got in a fistfight at school today. He won but he's suspended for a week. He lost a ton of feathers and people are texting him pictures of humans WEARING them. Like prizes. Fuckers.]

Charles: [That's awful]  
Charles: [Why didn't the teachers take them away?]

Erik: [Don't know]  
Erik: [At least no pics of the teachers wearing them :/ ]  
Erik: [That's what started the fight. Human came up and snatched a handful of Bradley's feathers.]

Charles: [Appalling]  
Charles: [I don't imagine they'd let anyone keep a handful of another kid's hair after a fight!]  
Charles: [I hope he wasn't hurt.]

Erik: [He's all right. Some bruises, a split lip, but he's strong. Less afraid of bullies than he was and they'll think twice about starting something.]  
Erik: [He brought his girlfriend with him to Helix. She hadn't been here before]  
Erik: [She's a latent, didn't see the need to be out before]  
Erik: [She's thinking about coming out now. Obviously I advocated for that. She'll be around Helix more at least.]

Charles: [It's good there was at least that positive outcome.]

Erik: [Tough day, but the kids are OK, and Bradley and I had a long talk]  
Erik: [I'm proud of him. And glad I was there for him to talk to.]

Charles: [I'm glad too.]  
Charles: [Last year this time I was going out with Raven on school visits three days a week.]  
Charles: [I miss it a bit. But I didn't want to start new mentoring relationships now and then potentially disappear on them in a few months.]

Erik: [I miss you.]

Charles: [I miss you too.]  
Charles: [You feel a little worried? Hard to interpret.]

Erik: [I thought, are you going somewhere?]  
Erik: [Then I realized where. And that I might have to explain that I'm leaving. It could be New York.]

Charles: [I'm not going anywhere without you.]

Erik: [I love you, Charles.]

Charles: [I love you, too. The entrees are arriving here, I suppose I should put my phone away for now. Phone call later? I'll be home around half 9]

Erik: [I'll be waiting. Have a good dinner!]

Charles: [Thank you, love. You too. Talk to you soon.]

\---

Things are getting better for Charles in New York. The hardest part was the first week; the worst of it was that first day, stepping off the plane into bone-chilling weather and having to walk across the tarmac alone, to the private flight terminal.

Alex and Armando met him there, as planned. Alex's cheerful "Hey, how's it going?" stopped as soon as it started-- Charles collapsed into Armando's arms the moment Armando hugged him, burying his face against Armando's shoulder. After all these years, he'd found and met his soulmate, fell in love with him all over again, acknowledged him, and the next morning he was back in New York, _alone_.

"I'm sorry," he managed, hating the wet shaky sound of his voice. "It's not me. I mean, it is me, of course it's me, but it's not just me. He's so unhappy--"

Through the bond he could feel Erik, every bit as desolate as Charles himself, but Charles couldn't seem to find any reassurance in the fact that Erik missed him just as much. Part of him despaired that he was hurting Erik yet again by agreeing to stay apart, even though it was Erik who needed time. And part of him saw it in the worst possible light, that Erik would rather feel this miserable than be with Charles one day longer.

That wasn't fair, he knew it wasn't true. Erik had made him countless promises and meant every one of them. He welcomed Charles into his mind completely and unconditionally, something Charles had never experienced before. And with that unprecedented access to Erik's thoughts, he knew that Erik truly believed they needed time apart without the sway of seeker rush, without the immediacy of their renewed bond. As if he expected to feel differently if Charles weren't influencing him-- no, that wasn't fair either.

In a way, Charles was nearly glad that the bond didn't entirely come back after they acknowledged. Erik could sense his presence now, his location, and that's a comfort to them both. But perhaps it was better that Erik couldn't feel his emotions while they're apart. Charles hoped that would come back as well, but... later, maybe. Gradually, after they slept a few more nights together, when Charles felt a little more sure...

"Hey," Armando whispered, as Alex awkwardly patted Charles's back. "Hey, it's all right. Sometimes you have to take it slow, that's all."

"Yeah, think of it this way," Alex added helpfully. "At least you don't have to wait six weeks in juvie while you wait for the paperwork to clear."

Charles managed to laugh, more because he was expected to than anything. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, dragging a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. "I'm expect I'm going to be a bit of a mess for a while."

Armando nodded. "When do you see him again?"

"A couple of weeks." The two hours they'd been apart already seemed like forever. Two weeks sounded impossible.

But it's been a week, now; the time has crawled past somehow. They have solid, confirmed plans. Erik has plane tickets booked, having declined Charles's offer to fly out to Pittsburgh in his private plane and pick him up, and they have a suite reserved at the hotel where Erik's conference is being held. They'll both be flying into Portland on the 16th, and Charles arranged for a car to take them from Portland to Mill Point. It's a matter of days at this point, only six more, then five, then four.

He does have one errand to run during the week, one he's been putting off since he got his mother's note on Fetbook... _Do stop in at home next time you can, we haven't had a chance to talk in a while._ When she rang to let him know that Kurt and Cain and Tom were all going to be away on Wednesday, it seemed as good a time as any.

He still has fond memories of the house itself, somehow. Rolling up the long drive, he remembers before Kurt and Cain came to live with them, when it was Sharon and Brian Xavier and, for a while, just Charles. There was always so much more room in the house than the three of them needed, and Charles remembers Brian talking about things they might do with it in the long run... adopt more children... convert it to a school, or a research facility... there's so much more they could have done with it than use it to hold Kurt's grandiose parties, things meant to curry favor with whatever Wall Street mogul or local politician he's trying to impress _this_ week.

Charles knocks at the front door, and Lydia lets him in with a small smile. "Your mother's in the sitting room," she murmurs. "May I take your coat?"

"Yes, thank you," Charles says, slipping it off and handing it over. In the sitting room, Sharon's staring into the fireplace, a cup of tea in her hands, but when Charles clears his throat she turns and sets the tea down, nearly smiling.

"Charles, how good to see you," Sharon says. She stands and crosses to him, hugging him briefly and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "How have you been?"

Charles gives his mother a smile. If it's not as bright as it could be, well, he can rely on her not to notice. "Fairly well," he says. "You heard the news, of course."

"Yes, and we were so pleased for you. Acknowledgment!" She pats his arm. "I suppose one or the other of you has a great deal of packing to do. Oh, I do hope he'll be moving to New York; I'd hate to see you gone as far as Pittsburgh..."

Charles might be willing to live in a hut or a cardboard box if it meant living with Erik; the where of it hardly matters to him. He manages to smile again anyway. "Well, first things first," he says. "We've planned a trip to Mill Point; I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, I saw that! And an early morning flight, that's a good idea; you'll have that whole first day together." Charles suppresses his astonishment; he'd been surprised enough to see Sharon's comment on Fetbook, let alone to hear that she's keeping up with him there. "But I'm so glad you managed to come out before your trip." She folds her arm into his as she guides him further into the mansion. "I know we usually meet in your neck of the woods, but I thought this might be best done here."

Now that sounds odd. Charles's shields are up, he can't tell what his mother's planning, but her mood is very different from her usual detached state. There's fondness, and a great deal of it... some of it, perhaps, for Charles. There's also nostalgia, and under everything else, the familiar throb of Sharon's long-standing grief. It's more noticeable now somehow.

Not much for it but to ford on and go where his mother's taking him, though. "What's that?"

"You'll see." She smiles at him. "I do hope it won't be long before Erik at least comes to visit. We've all been wanting a chance to meet him."

_That's_ a horrible dilemma. He'd be happiest if Erik never had to meet Kurt or Cain, though he supposes it's going to have to happen eventually. Charles pats Sharon's hand. "I'm sure we'll manage a trip to New York at some point, and maybe then we'll have a chance to come up to Westchester for dinner or somesuch."

"Yes, Kurt's been talking quite a bit about how he'd like to meet Erik in person. After the flurry of congratulations on your acknowledgement announcement, I believe he was more intrigued than ever."

Intrigued is one word for it. Suspicious might be another. That settles it: Charles isn't going to let Kurt within ten feet of Erik until he absolutely has to. And possibly not even then. 

"I don't think this is what you were planning to talk to me about, though...?" It can't be; she's just led him to his father's old study, and she lets his arm go to reach into her pocket for a key, an old skeleton key-- this is one of the rooms that was never upgraded with a modern lock.

"No, no... this is something else," Sharon assures him, as they step inside.

When Charles still lived here, he used to love his father's study. So much about it is unchanged from the early years, from when Brian Xavier was still alive. The chessboard on the table in the middle of the room is the one Charles learned on; the desk still has the photographs Brian picked out and chose to display there. The books are mostly Brian's, though Charles added quite a few in his day. He can almost hear Ella Fitzgerald and smell the distinctive mix of crackling firewood and cherry tobacco; his father didn't smoke, but he kept the tobacco in his desk drawer because he liked the scent. Telepathy made Charles a precocious child, but he wasn't entirely immune to toddlerhood, and once he got into the desk drawer and tried to eat a three-year-old handful of the stuff.

Sharon heads for Brian's desk, sliding his chair out and taking a seat. It feels very odd, seeing her there-- but she's reaching for the bottom drawer, not using the desk itself, apparently. She slides the drawer out and lifts a red leather box from it, settling it on the desk's blotter and spreading her hands to either side of it.

The box is familiar; it's a Cartier presentation box of some variety. The leather's not pristine, though-- some sort of vintage piece? Charles waits, curious.

"I gave Raven hers when she brought Irene here to meet us. I don't know that it's something Irene will wear every day, but I do know she appreciated it." Sharon smiles briefly up at Charles before turning back to the box, trailing her fingertips lightly over the leather. "She began to tear up before I even handed her the bracelet." She takes a deep breath, and then stands and hands the box to Charles. "This is for you, for your soulmate."

"Thank you," Charles says automatically. He presses the brass button on the front of the box, and it obligingly releases a catch, allowing Charles to open the box itself. Inside, on a bed of white satin, there's a thick gold chain, with two large links in the center. The links are stamped with circles, each split horizontally through the middle-- it's from the classic "Love" collection, though it isn't one of the bracelets that screws on, ensuring that only the person who holds the screwdriver can remove it from its owner's wrist.

It looks familiar, though, and the longer Charles looks at it, the more he realizes how. "Father had one just like it."

Sharon reaches out and touches his wrist, feather-light. When he looks at her, she's smiling a little, but her eyes are shining. "This is your father's, dear. I wanted you to have it. For Erik."

Charles sucks in a breath, looking at the bracelet all over again. It's been polished; it's gleaming. Sharon must have had this planned for some time-- and of course, she mentioned she gave one to Irene... it would have been the matching one, the one Sharon wore. Charles wonders what Raven thought of that. If Sharon was unreachable for Charles, it was ten times worse for Raven, who wasn't the child of Sharon's bond with Brian Xavier. She'd only been a part of the family for a few short months before Brian died.

But Charles knows how much this bracelet meant to his father, and how much it must mean for Sharon to give it to him, now. His face feels hot; his throat is tight. "Mother," he manages, gently touching the larger, linked rings. "Thank you."

Sharon strokes his wrist again. "I hope he'll like it," she murmurs. "I'm sure, as a jeweler, he'll recognize it and know how to care for it." Charles can only nod. "And as your soulmate... I hope he'll like it."

"I'm--" Charles has to draw in a breath in order to speak clearly; his throat's so tight he can barely get the words out. If he were sure she'd accept it, it would be so much easier to tell her how he feels, mind-to-mind, but as it is, he finally manages to say, "I'm sure he will."

\---

To: el.metal@gmail.com  
From: cfxavier@elion.cuny.edu  
Subject: Re: Unbelievable  
Date: 2009-01-15 08:16:32 -0500

Dear Erik,

I hope you're having a better time of it at work today!

> We had one for the books this morning. A dom came into the store looking for earrings for  
> his female sub. My co-worker told him we'd be happy to show him-- and he cut her off there,  
> and threw some crumpled fabric onto the counter. "Just find something that matches this. I'll  
> be back in an hour." It turned out to be lingerie. It did not appear to have been cleaned.   
> Possibly ever.  
> Still, a sale is a sale. We found earrings with gemstones the same shade of maroon. He  
> barely glanced at them, said "Fine" and bought them. The lingerie, he wadded up and stuck   
> right back into his coat pocket. Classy.  
> You must deal with a lot of people too, teaching. Do you ever have a hard time keeping a   
> straight face?

I usually have a reasonably good poker face. But I've had a few moments like that. The closest I've come to laughing... it was probably a rope bondage demo, showing how to tie a shamrock knot. Both Angel and I went through it one step at a time, and when we'd both demonstrated, someone still having trouble asked us "Can you run that back and show it in slow motion?" Apparently someone more used to instructional videos than classes. And we really couldn't have gone any slower! (I walked him through it individually, and he picked it up readily then.)

Because of the nature of the subject matter, things that might otherwise be funny tend to instead provoke a wince, if not a gobsmacked stare. "How many days can you leave someone tied upside-down," for example. There are no stupid questions, but turns out there are bloody scary ones.

Tedious for me are the questions along the lines of, "You know the scene in fill-in-the-blank movie? How do I set up for that? / Where do I get that equipment? / Can you do that in real life?"

Answering that I haven't seen the film fills these students with uncomprehending horror. How can you not have seen fill-in-the-blank? You have to see it!

Once a student started describing the film in question to me from the beginning, complete with quoted dialogue, and she had every intention of walking me through the entire thing to the bitter end. I managed to talk her down to just telling me about the concordance scene. Even just that took twenty minutes and included digressions into the filmographies of all three actors.

The next time the class met, she brought me a stack of DVDs. When I explained I can't usually sustain much interest in live-action films, she offered to come to office hours and talk me through them. I suppose that might make it sound as if a student-teacher crush were at play, but it wasn't that, not in the slightest. She was just that adamant that I needed to see those films. I was sure she must be studying cinema, but no, as it turned out. Poli-Sci.

Talk to you this evening, darling. One more day!

Oh, and: Bxd5+

Check! :)

Love,  
Charles

\---

Charles's phone rings just before ten in the morning; he knows it's Erik as soon as he hears the ringtone. For a moment, his heart drops-- Erik's flight is scheduled to leave at any moment, why would he be calling now? Is he cancelling, last-minute?

But no; all Charles feels through the bond is excitement and happiness. He picks up, and before he can get a word out, Erik says, "It's me."

"I never would have guessed," Charles teases. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Well, I'm at the airport. They just started boarding, but first class and passengers who need extra time only. I'm so ready for this, Charles, you have no idea..."

"Believe me, I do," Charles says. "Four hours. Four hours and we'll be able to say hello in person."

"Among other things," Erik laughs. "I'm beginning to regret not taking you up on your offer to send the plane out for me. I can't believe I have to deal with a stopover in Philadelphia, what was I thinking? I'm going to go insane."

"It's not too late," Charles offers. "I could probably have the schedule changed--"

"By the time you'd be able to work out details with takeoff times and all that, I'd probably be more than halfway there. It's fine. It'll be fine. And Pittsburgh to New York-- it's easy to get a direct flight to JFK, I've checked."

Charles's heart leaps. "Have you?"

"Often," Erik says. The warmth in his voice is nothing compared to the emotions coming through the bond. "I might call you from Philadelphia, too. It's only a half-hour stopover, but even so..."

"Call me anytime you like. I'm not taking off until after your Philadelphia leg leaves, it should be fine."

"All right." Erik sighs happily. "Charles... I've missed you."

"I know." He's felt it every day, even on the days when they spent hours on the phone. "It doesn't seem like these last four hours could possibly be going more slowly than the rest of the week, does it? And yet..."

"And yet." Erik pauses; in the background, Charles can hear an announcement, sounds from a crowd. "That's my section of the plane, I'm supposed to board."

"All right. I'll see you soon, love."

\---

There's no time to call Charles in Philadelphia; Erik barely makes the second flight as it is. He manages to find one overhead bin with space for his carryon and settles down in his aisle seat, dragging out his phone to send a quick, apologetic text. [Made connection with five seconds to spare. See you in Mill Point..]

The most exciting part of the flight for the rest of the passengers is the light spot of turbulence over New Jersey; the most exciting part for Erik is when he feels Charles moving, the thread of connection between them changing shape as Charles's flight takes off. His plane is faster than Erik's; even though Erik takes off before him, he can feel Charles out there, overtaking him, landing in Portland a good twenty minutes before Erik does.

In the airport, Erik hurries through the terminal, past baggage claim, and straight out the exit to the taxis and limos-- he doesn't even have to look at the signs, he can feel Charles waiting outside for him. 

Charles sends, «Erik! I'm just outside the doors on the--» and stops, with a wave of joy and amusement. «You already know!»

The bracing Maine weather doesn't stop him for a moment. When he sees Charles standing outside a sleek black town car, bundled up in a woolen peacoat and a checked scarf, he weaves through the sparse crowd and pulls Charles into a hug, feeling warmer than he has in weeks.

«I'm here. I'm here,» he sends, holding on hard. With his ability, he can feel his windcatcher underneath Charles's clothes, pressed against his chest. He can almost feel the flutter of Charles's heartbeat against it. He presses the rings against Charles's chest for a moment, and Charles sighs. Charles's return embrace is every bit as tight, his face pressed to Erik's neck. 

«I missed you so much, Charles. I'm here now. I'm here.»

«I missed you, too,» Charles sends back. «Every day. Every hour. Every _minute_.» He draws back to look at Erik, and Erik bends his head down, letting Charles pull him into a kiss. Everything feels so good Erik's not sure if it's another surge of seeker rush or if it's just one of those signs that they're meant to be together. _Together_ , not apart. This is the first time Erik's felt truly at home in two weeks.

He eases back out of the kiss, and Charles caresses the back of his neck, his brows drawing together as he looks up at Erik. "Is everything all right...?"

"Of course," Erik says, catching Charles's hand in his, squeezing. "Should we be on our way?"

"Absolutely. It's freezing out here," Charles laughs. "Let's get into the town car, it's much warmer in there."

They load Erik's luggage into the trunk, and Charles climbs into the back seat, scooting across to make room for Erik. Erik clambers in beside him, and grins as Charles puts up the privacy barrier between driver and passengers. «There,» Charles says, as they head off. «It's about an hour to Mill Point... what would you like to do until then?»

Erik grins as he reaches out, wrapping an arm around Charles's shoulders. «There's a chess game we were in the middle of,» he offers; they've been playing by text message and email, sending each other moves now and then. So far Erik's up one game, though the current one has him on the run. «Or...»

«Or?» Charles turns his face up, pressing himself against Erik. He ends up laughing, though, burying his face against Erik's chest. «I'm only teasing, darling, I'd be happy to play chess, or just talk, or _anything_. I'm so glad to be with you again.»

«It's the same for me,» Erik promises. «I mean it, Charles.» He reaches forward and catches the point of Charles's chin between his fingers, tilting Charles's face back up to look at him. «This feels right.»

Charles leans forward as Erik leans down, and they're kissing again, Charles's whole body fitting against Erik's like he belongs there. Their coats are getting in the way, now; Erik reaches for Charles's buttons, heavy plastic, no metal to get a grip on. His own jacket has zippers, but it doesn't do him as much good as he'd hoped. The town car's big, but not quite limousine-sized, and they're a little crowded in the back seat. Still, with a few moments' struggle, Charles is out of his peacoat, out of his sport jacket, and pulling his sweater vest over his head, all of which makes Erik laugh.

«So many layers. It's like you don't want anyone getting under there,» Erik teases.

«Not anyone but you,» Charles promises. He undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, and Erik reaches for his windcatcher, pressing his fingertips against the rings. «I never take it off. I love wearing something that you made for me. It's beautiful, Erik.»

«I wish--» Erik's thought about that, over and over, since he gave Charles the windcatcher: how good it is to know that it means what it does to Charles, how right it feels that Charles is wearing it... how much he misses having something around his wrist, marking him as belonging to someone. He shouldn't wish for that. If he were any kind of a submissive, he'd be begging for a collar, would have asked for one back in Boston. But the idea of wearing something around his throat... he hasn't done that in a long time, and he doesn't know if he could bear it, now, not even for Charles.

«You wish? Tell me,» Charles urges. He reaches up and strokes Erik's hair, his hand moving from crown to nape-- not quite pressing against soul's-home, not quite the classic dominant move, but close, and part of Erik wants it to be _exactly_ that move. «Anything, love. Anything at all.»

«I've thought about making myself another,» Erik admits. «Something I could wear for you.»

Charles smiles so widely he ends up biting his lower lip to hold some of it in; Erik can _feel_ Charles's satisfaction, his love and warmth and excitement. «You'd like something to wear for me?»

«Very much,» Erik says, reaching out himself now, stroking Charles's hair.

Charles comes forward and wraps his arms around Erik's waist, hugging him tightly. «I'm so glad we're here,» he sends.

Erik kisses the top of Charles's head and closes his eyes. «I'm glad, too,» he sends, and he feels their thoughts twining together as they both send, «I love you.»

\---

It's tempting to spend the entire trip to Mill Point kissing and making love, but the road is bumpier than expected. After a few close calls with teeth, Charles laughs and sits back, squeezing Erik's hand. "We might be safer waiting for the hotel room..."

"I can wait," Erik tells him. Charles grins and starts fastening buttons; Erik does the same. There's a strong thrum of desire between them, nearly as urgent as that first week in Boston, but it's changed, a little; it's deeper, as if acknowledgement has left it a bit more mature. They really _can_ wait, now.

"I looked into some activities around Mill Point, if we need something to do," Charles scoots over until he's pressed to Erik's side. He feels Erik's amusement, and tilts his head up to look at him. "Apart from that..."

"Apart from that, there's my conference," Erik reminds him. "I'll need that weekend to spend time with MFMR-- you could still come, there's registration at the door."

Much as he'd like to spend even more time with Erik, Charles shakes his head. He's done enough research on MFMR to know that he'd probably spend the entire conference arguing with them-- their agenda is too close to separatism for Charles's taste-- and while he and Erik need to have that conversation at some point, it seems far more reasonable to have it over the phone or by email, when their time isn't so precious. "I'm sure I'll find ways to keep myself occupied. It's only three days out of our two weeks."

"And I'll be coming home to you every night," Erik says, squeezing Charles's shoulders. "Sleeping beside you every night, waking up next to you every morning..."

Charles closes his eyes and presses his face to Erik's shoulder. «You can't begin to imagine how much I'm looking forward to that.»

«I think I can,» Erik sends, kissing the top of Charles's head. «Maybe that's the first thing we should do. Have a nap. Only how will we ever exhaust each other enough to sleep...?»

Laughing, Charles shakes his head. «I can't imagine! We'll need to put our heads together and think of something.»

It isn't much longer before they're at the hotel. After they arrive, Charles checks them in, hands a keycard to Erik, and arranges with a bellhop to have their luggage brought upstairs for them. Erik lifts an eyebrow at that, and Charles lifts one back at him.

«I could have managed the suitcases. Now we're likely to be interrupted just as we get started.»

Charles bites his lower lip as he grins at Erik. «That eager, are you?»

As they step into the elevator, Erik touches Charles's hand and simply sends back, «Yes.»

That's all it takes. Charles grabs Erik by his jacket and pushes him into the back wall of the elevator, coming up on his toes to claim Erik's mouth. Erik moans against his lips, pulling Charles close, and they kiss until the elevator comes to a halt, the doors opening behind them.

«You may have a point,» Charles says, taking Erik's hand and leading him down the hall. «We might well be interrupted. I suppose we'd best keep our clothes on until we get our luggage.»

Erik doesn't bother waiting for Charles to use his keycard; he waves his hand at the door, and it opens for him. Charles beams at him, but Erik's already nudging Charles through, getting him into the hotel suite.

With it being the largest hotel in town by far, the only one with sufficient conference room space for MFMR, there actually are a few suites, though nothing as nice as what Charles found in Boston. Still, they have a spacious room, an oval-shaped soaking tub, and bathrobes and slippers, plus a well-stocked minibar and a dungeon drawer. The hotel lube isn't really up to Charles's standards, condoms are a non-issue... but all that fades away as Erik catches up to him, tucking his chin over Charles's shoulder as he wraps his arms around Charles's waist.

«I missed you,» Erik sends again. «It feels so good just being near you again.»

Charles turns in Erik's arms, reaching up to wind his arms around Erik's neck. He presses a soft kiss to Erik's mouth. «I want to memorize every minute of our time together. Every second.»

«So do I,» Erik thinks, a rumble of a laugh building in his chest. Somehow, one or the other of them has started backing toward the bed... and whoever didn't start it is more than happy to be going there as well. «Clothes _on_ , you said...?»

«Only until we get our luggage!» Charles pulls Erik with him, both of them tumbling onto the bed together, and Erik rolls until Charles is on top of him, his legs wedged between Erik's thighs. Charles shifts, his cock quickly getting hard, and Erik's answering groan and increasingly-thick erection are more than enough to show Charles that they're on the same page. He gives Erik another slow thrust, and Erik gasps, his thighs tightening against Charles's hips.

«Yes, Charles, please...»

Charles tilts his head up. «How are you doing today?» he asks, petting Erik's hair. He looks into Erik's eyes, trying to sort out that 'please'... but Erik shakes his head, smiling.

«I'm fine. I'm not slipping-- not yet, anyway. I think I'm going to be all right, I just-- I _want_ you... let me say that this time.»

«That you want me? You can say that as often as you want, I could never be tired of hearing it.» Charles leans down and kisses Erik's neck, just above the collar of his t-shirt.

«Not just that. Let me say...» Erik leans up, his lips at Charles's ear. " _Please_."

Charles lets out a strangled noise, and just like that, his instincts are flaring, his need for Erik boiling over and spilling across both of them. He's got a hand fisted in Erik's t-shirt before he can think, he's reaching for Erik's wrist with his other hand-- it's only at the last moment that he redirects himself to lace his fingers with Erik's, instead. Erik squeezes his hand and leans up to kiss him, offering his mouth. Charles takes that offer, kissing Erik so hard Erik moans underneath him, one leg coming over Charles's to draw him in further.

«Yes, yes, please...»

Hearing Erik think _please_ at him may well end Charles, at this rate. «You can have anything, anything you want, I love you so much, Erik--» _Don't leave me again, I can't stand it, I need you._ He holds that back, barely, but another admission gets past him. «I love hearing you say please.»

Erik squeezes Charles's hand, and when Charles draws back to look at him, Erik's smiling. "Please," he whispers again, rocking up beneath Charles. "Please, Charles." His grin is turning decidedly wicked; the emotions Charles is getting through the bond are all pleasure and excitement and-- _smugness_ , God. Erik tilts his head back, just a little-- it's the slightest hint of showing throat. "Please..."

Charles moans and ducks his head down, pressing his mouth to the side of Erik's neck. " _God_ ," he gasps out, his grip on Erik's hand gone tight, pinning Erik's hand down against the mattress. Erik groans and rocks up again, and this time Charles meets him halfway, thrusting against him, his hips pressing Erik's down and holding him there. «Erik,» he sends-- he can't help letting a wisp of his feelings through with the word, his arousal, his longing.

«This,» Erik sends back, arching underneath Charles, his fingers gone slack between Charles's. «This is what I want, this is what I was _missing_ \-- please, I want you, please--»

«Yes,» Charles sends, barely forming the word, more the meaning than the word itself. He gets his free hand between them, jerking at Erik's belt, his button, his zipper; he needs to feel Erik against him now, skin-to-skin, the two of them _together_ the way they were always meant to be--

There's a knock on the door; both of them startle, Erik coming partway off the bed. Charles's instincts take over, and he pins Erik flat again, which makes Erik moan, his eyes sliding closed.

«Our things,» Charles sends. He bites his lower lip. «Can you wait long enough for me to get them?»

Faintly, Erik sends back, «I can wait...» But when Charles lets him go and climbs off him, Erik stays where he's been put, his neck exposed, his hand resting on the mattress where Charles put it.

Charles frowns lightly and touches Erik's face. "Erik...?"

«Yes... I'm...»

Another knock. "Just a moment," Charles calls out. "Erik. Darling, are you with me?"

Finally, Erik's eyes flutter open again. "I'm here," Erik answers hoarsely. He sits up, carefully, wincing as he zips his fly up again and buttons his jeans. "Go on, get the suitcases-- I'll be all right. I could use a moment."

Charles leans in and kisses him briefly, then heads off to the door. A few moments and the bellhop's brought the luggage cart in and unloaded it, and Charles tips him before he disappears once more, leaving them on their own.

Erik comes out from around the half-wall separating bedroom from lounge; Charles meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Erik's waist. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine," Erik insists. "I was-- it was close." He strokes both hands up and down Charles's back. "But I'm fine."

"Maybe we could use a break," Charles murmurs, rubbing his face against Erik's chest. One thing does occur to him, and he draws back, looking up at Erik with a smile. "I've brought you something."

"I have something for you, too," Erik says, grinning back. "Yours first, or mine?"

"Is yours handmade?" Charles asks, beaming at him.

"I wouldn't say _hand_ ," Erik answers. The pride and pleasure coming through the bond nearly makes Charles dizzy. "Mine first, then."

He kneels down and unzips his suitcase, and comes back up with a long jewelry box-- the sort of thing that might hold an oversized bracelet, possibly, or a necklace.

As it turns out, it's a wallet chain-- one with thick, sturdy links, and a medallion at the end engraved with a C. The medallion has rings around it, much like the windcatcher, though the join isn't nearly as seamless as the windcatcher itself-- the rings are obvious, not blending in the way the windcatcher's rings do. But Charles doesn't have to be told that Erik made this for him, and he throws his arms around Erik, hugging him tightly.

«It's _beautiful_. I love it-- I'll wear it every day.»

Obviously pleased, Erik smiles and runs his thumb over the chain's links. «I'm glad. I shaped all of this, ground-up-- I wanted to make a new chain for this,» he reaches up to Charles's chest, where the windcatcher lies, «but I still can't do work on quite that small a scale. The larger rings, though, that I could do.»

As Charles looks at the chain again, he smiles-- the links aren't identical, each of them being ability-forged, but they're seamless, and the chain lies flat. «This is spectacular,» he tells Erik. He leans up, drawing Erik down for a kiss, which Erik offers eagerly. «I'm so proud of you,» Charles sends as he draws back. «And I'll be so proud to wear this. Thank you.»

Erik beams at him, his smile stretching nearly ear-to-ear. «You're welcome. I'm so glad you like it.»

Reaching to his belt loop, Charles unfastens the wallet chain he was wearing-- there's no time like the present to wear the gift his talented bondmate made for him. He's grinning broadly himself by the time he's replaced the old chain, and when he traces the links with a fingertip, he notices Erik shivering. «I adore it.» He gives the new chain another stroke-- oh, yes, that was definitely a thread of arousal, Erik's sensitivity to metal showing its advantages yet again.

But before he can get too distracted, playing with that aspect of Erik's ability, he laughs and shakes his head. "I'm glad I have something to give you this time as well."

Erik's arousal quickly shifts to excitement-- it's a familiar sensation for Charles, the same thing he's felt in friends and lovers when a birthday or holiday had come around, and presents were being exchanged. Being able to feel that from Erik is a little breathtaking.

"I'm trying not to feel through your suitcases for anything metal," Erik tells him, grinning. "At least, I'm guessing it's metal..."

"It's a good guess," Charles laughs. "And I appreciate your letting me surprise you. I wondered if I could put it in a sort of Faraday cage to throw you off, but when I looked up how to make one, it was all so much tinfoil-- sorry! _Aluminium_ foil nonsense." The British pronunciation makes Erik's smile that much wider; Charles is getting fondness and love from their bond and from Erik's surface moods. A bit of nostalgia, too, and of course Charles remembers the way they shared that word back at the Wyngardes' over the holidays. He laughs again. "So... try not to peek..."

He goes to his suitcase and brings over a black velvet drawstring bag; Erik takes it from him, his fingertips tracing the fabric lightly. The shape of the box inside the velvet clearly gets his attention, because his eyebrows go up as he draws the Cartier box from the bag. Charles has to bite his lower lip to keep from explaining before Erik even gets the box open.

He doesn't need to, though; Erik's murmuring to himself already. "Vintage?" he asks, stroking the leather before pressing the small brass button and lifting the lid. " _Oh._ Charles..." He traces the bracelet with a fingertip. "It's an original, isn't it? From the initial release?" He lifts the bracelet out of the box, draping the velvet bag over the box and setting both gently aside on the nearby coffee table. His thumb goes over the links again, as if he's getting to know the metal. "These were controversial when Cartier introduced them-- the rings being the same size, I mean. The way they didn't put out a dominant's version and a submissive's version, just a larger version and a smaller version depending on style and taste... role equality was only just beginning to make that kind of progress in the '70s." Erik looks up at Charles. "But I imagine you knew all that..." He looks at the bracelet again; even knowing only half the story, he's moved, Charles can feel it. "It's beautiful, Charles. I can't believe you found this for me."

Charles reaches forward and cups his hands around Erik's. "Better than just finding it," he says softly. "It means a lot to me to be able to give this to you." His voice has gone a little thick, but there's no helping that, not now. "It was my father's."

Erik's hand tightens on the bracelet, and now it's his turn to pull Charles close, holding him tightly. «Oh, Charles. _Thank you_.»

The warmth coming through the bond tells Charles that Erik understands; his heart's full of love and affection, all of it given freely to Charles, for the gift and the sentiment and the meaning behind it. Charles hugs Erik back, kissing his cheek. "I'd like to put it on you. This first time."

"Oh, God, of course, yes. Please," Erik says. He smiles, looking hopefully at Charles as he asks, "Can I kneel...?"

That he even _wants_ to-- Charles swallows past the lump in his throat and then kisses Erik soundly. "Yes."

Permission granted, Erik goes down to his knees. Charles lets out a shaking breath; there's no way he can look at Erik on the floor like that and not feel tempted to make sure he wants to stay there. Erik offers his right wrist, palm up, and floats the bracelet up into the air for Charles. His eyes are shining. «I love you, Charles.»

Charles takes the bracelet from the air, reaching down with his other hand to touch Erik's cheek. «I love you,» he sends. He licks his lips-- nothing about this should make him nervous, he has Erik on his knees, and he can only feel excitement and gratitude from him, more and more by the moment. He says aloud, "When we lost my father, my mother put this away. No one's ever worn it but him. And now you. I'm so happy I can give you something to connect you to him." He blinks a few times; his eyes are tearing up a bit. "He would have loved you, too."

He fastens the bracelet around Erik's wrist, and holds his hand, bending down to kiss him. Erik squeezes his hand and kisses back, his heart as full as Charles's is.

When Charles draws back, Erik meets his eyes, and sends, «It's beautiful, Charles. I love it.» And Charles gets the slightest hint of mischief as Erik adds, «Thank you for the gift...»

Erik, on his knees, wearing Charles's bracelet, sending _Thank you for the gift..._ Not quite "thank you for the gift of your care and dominance", but close enough, and with that mischievous tone in his thoughts, of course he meant it that way. God, he's like something out of Charles's fantasies, like everything Charles tries _not_ to let himself fantasize about when he's thinking of Erik. For just a moment, the temptation to grab Erik by the joining spot and lay him out right here on the floor rises up and leaves Charles a bit stupefied. Erik's hopeful look is _not_ helping.

"I would very much like to take you back to bed," Charles murmurs.

Erik's eyes light up, and he nods, and lets Charles pull him up to his feet. "We were interrupted," he says. He looks down at the bracelet, reaching out to stroke the metal. "But now I'm glad."

Watching Erik touch the bracelet, Charles is every bit as glad. "Come on," he says, drawing Erik over to the bed. Erik laughs as he tumbles down onto the mattress, pulling Charles with him. Charles is only too happy to go, settling on top of Erik, letting Erik draw his knees up and squeeze Charles's hips with them.

«I missed you,» Erik thinks. «Now I'll be able to feel you with me all the time.» He rests his wrist against the mattress, just to the side of his head, the inside of his wrist turned up. Charles reaches down and traces the chain over the inside of his wrist, watching Erik's eyes close as he feels it. «That's so good, Charles, don't stop...»

«I love that.» Charles bends his head down and kisses the side of Erik's neck, savoring the sound Erik makes in response. «I love how you respond to metal. It's beautiful.»

Erik chuckles softly. «If you think that's something, wait until you get your hands on my Eleven. I brought it with me.»

"Did you!" Charles draws back, beaming down at him. "Anything else I should know about?"

"A couple of plugs," Erik says, smiling. "I thought about bringing along some ball chain, it's versatile, but I thought that might be pushing it..."

"Not as far as I'm concerned." Charles laughs. "Feel free to bring all the metal you want. What do you do with ball chain?"

"All sorts of things," Erik murmurs, leaning up and brushing his cheek against Charles's neck before leaving a warm kiss on the side of it. The tease against his throat makes Charles's breath stutter for a moment, and he presses Erik back down, kissing him hard, his fingers tracing back and forth against the chain of Erik's bracelet.

«Pin me,» Erik thinks. «I can take it, you were doing it earlier, I _want_ it...»

Charles stops short of reminding Erik that earlier he was on the verge of slipping. Instead, he angles back and looks into Erik's eyes. "We'll have to be careful," he murmurs, his hand curving around Erik's wrist-- but only holding, not tightly, not yet. "I'm going to check in. If you start to lose focus, I'll let up."

"All right," Erik agrees, settling both hands to either side of his head. He licks his lower lip and smiles up at Charles. "I'm here. I'm ready."

It's getting harder to resist him by the moment. Charles circles Erik's wrists with his hands and gently pins him against the bed, watching as Erik's eyes go wide and then flutter closed. «Yes...»

"Out loud," Charles murmurs. "Can you keep your eyes open?"

Erik gets them open and looks back up at Charles, nodding. "Still here," he says, voice a little hoarse. "That feels good."

"You feel incredible to me, too," Charles says, rocking down against him. Erik groans, and his eyes shut again, but he opens them an instant later, fixing his gaze on Charles. "You're beautiful. I missed you..." He rubs his thumb against Erik's bracelet. «My love.»

"Yes-- _yes_ ," Erik pants, angling himself up, catching Charles's mouth in a kiss. Charles pins Erik with his body this time, pressing him flat against the mattress before taking that kiss deeper, and Erik moans for him, his body arching up in an offer that leaves Charles aching to claim him. «Charles. _Please._ I need you.»

«I'm here,» Charles sends back, scrambling up so he can undress. He's so quick about it that Erik barely has time to get his t-shirt off before Charles is finishing with his trousers and pants, and Erik pushes up on his elbows, distracted and flatteringly wide-eyed as Charles knees his way back onto the bed.

«Oh my God. I think I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you are...» Erik reaches out for him, stroking Charles's hip as Charles straddles Erik's thighs.

«I didn't forget anything about you. I couldn't.» Charles puts both hands on Erik's chest and smooths them up over his shoulders, then back down-- tweaking his nipples on the way, a move that makes Erik arch and groan-- and over his stomach. He hooks both hands into the waistband of Erik's jeans. «But you're behind,» he teases. «Unless you expect me to do this for you?» He thumbs at Erik's belt buckle, and Erik groans again, rocking his hips against Charles's touch. Charles gives his belt buckle a more deliberate caress, then moves his thumb down further, under the outer flap of his fly and down across his zipper, touching the interlocking brass tooth-by-tooth. 

By the time he's reached the end of the zipper, Erik's got both hands balled into fists, and his nipples are rock-hard, his whole body tense with arousal. "And this is just your _zipper_ ," Charles breathes. "What could I do if you were in a set of Gates, do you think?"

Erik's eyes open at that, and he laughs weakly, getting his hands onto Charles's thighs. "Almost anything you wanted," he admits. "Right now, though-- it's been two weeks, Charles. I'll keep begging if you need me to, but--"

Charles bends down and kisses him. «You don't have to beg,» he promises. The last thing he wants is for Erik to slip into headspace now, when they're doing so well together. «I'm here. I won't keep you waiting.»

He unbuckles Erik's belt, and the button and zipper come undone almost as soon as he touches them-- helped along by a bit of Erik's power. He grins up at Erik as he peels Erik out of his jeans and boxers, and as soon as Erik's naked, Charles bends his head down, licking a hot stripe up the center of Erik's cock.

Erik reaches down, fingers sliding into Charles's hair just as Charles takes the head into his mouth. «I missed you, too,» he sends, sucking hard. «I missed you so much. I missed _this_ every day, I wanted you so much...»

"Yes-- _God_ ," Erik pants, "it's been the same for me, I missed you, wanted you, I missed you every day--" His hand slips down to Charles's joining spot, and Charles's moan is blunted against Erik's cock, making Erik groan in return. The pleasure cascading through Charles at that simple touch makes him wish he could do the same to Erik, press against his joining spot and hold him there, all while sucking him off.

That would take another position, though, and Charles isn't sure he's patient enough for that. From what he feels through the bond, he's certain Erik isn't feeling patient at all. Charles should take responsibility, here; he should be patient enough for both of them, he's a responsible dominant, he knows what to do in a situation where his sub-- his _partner_ \-- may have trouble slipping into headspace... but it's so different, being here with his soulmate, listening to Erik tell him _I missed you every day_. It's nothing at all like being in a classroom environment, listing all the important points, reminding people that it's vitally important to back off and check in as many times as necessary. He never considered what it would feel like to have someone touch his joining spot and have that place light up, making him feel hot and desperate in an instant.

He backs off anyway, though his whole body feels like it's straining to have Erik back in his mouth. He wants to make Erik come, just like this, and then again, after, and again. He wants so many things...

"I want you," he gasps. "Erik..."

"Get up here," Erik insists, reaching down to Charles's shoulders and tugging at him. "Get up here, _please_ , I need you--"

With a groan, Charles scrambles up the bed, climbing up Erik's body and capturing Erik's mouth with his. «I need you, too,» he sends back. «I always have. I still do.»

Erik squirms beneath him, his cock rubbing up against Charles's stomach. «Yes, always, need you, please, Charles, please, inside me, fuck me, I need you...»

To hell with it. The hotel lube will do, this first time. Charles grabs it out of the bedside table, pops the safety seal, and slicks up his fingers, while Erik draws his knees up to his chest, offering himself up. It's been two weeks, but Charles has felt it when Erik uses the Eleven back at home, the deep satisfying pleasure of it-- Erik's been keeping in practice, and Charles lets himself believe, for an instant, that it's in anticipation of moments like these, when Charles wants him and Erik wants to be ready to take him. He slides two fingers into Erik's arse without having to go slow or even be gentle with him; Erik arches his throat and lets out a moan that sounds like a plea for more.

A little more lube, then, a third finger, Erik can take it, he's radiating the need for it-- their bond's lit up between them, Erik's half shining with his arousal. « _Please._ ,» Erik sends. «Take me.»

Charles scrambles into place, swiping his hand briefly down his cock, getting himself that last little bit of slick. «I'm right here, Erik,» he promises. «I'm here.»

Erik gasps as Charles starts working into him, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and Charles has to remind himself that Erik's not deliberately showing throat. It's the position they're in, the way Erik's overloading with pleasure and excitement-- though that, in and of itself, is more than enough to thrill Charles. He felt it when Erik was at the club, that night, weeks before they met in person; he felt it when Erik was kissing that psionic dom of his, ten minutes that, to Charles, lasted an eternity. He felt it every morning Erik pressed eleven inches of steel into his arse and got off from it. But he knows, now, that nothing Erik's ever felt has compared to having Charles inside him, and while he probably shouldn't take as much pride in that as he does-- right now it's everything he needs to feel, his soulmate sharing pleasure with him that's only theirs, that no one else can reach.

«I love you,» Erik sends, and Charles feels it, in his joining spot, in Erik's mind. «I'm yours, all of me, yours--»

«Yes. _Erik_ ,» Charles sends, curving a hand around the front of Erik's thigh. But there's a jagged edge coming into view now, a shadow over Erik's thoughts. Charles digs his nails into Erik's thigh, and Erik's eyes fly open, his breath catching short in his chest. «Stay with me. Right here. Look at me. I'm yours, too. I love you.»

The shadow fades out again; Erik locks eyes with Charles and nods. "I'm here," he answers hoarsely. "I'm here with you, I'm--" And he laughs, his face breaking into a beautiful smile. "Here with you. I'm here, oh God, we're finally _here_." This time, when his eyes close and his head tips back, it doesn't feel like he's dropping into headspace; it feels like he's focusing on his body, like he's giving himself up to all the sensation he's feeling.

Charles holds on a moment longer, Erik's moods and feelings cascading over him, rushing through their bond, until he's sure... until he's completely certain it's safe... _you're safe with me, Erik, you always will be, I'll do anything I have to in order to make sure you're safe..._

But then he's there, with Erik, pounding into him, letting loose with the two full weeks of need and longing he's been feeling. Erik's beautiful underneath him, the tense lean muscles of his body straining with the motion, and Charles buries himself in Erik's body over and over, wanting him, _needing_ this like he's never felt a need for sex before. It's so much more than just sex, it's connection, it's their bond, it's _Erik_ , and as Erik lets go and Charles feels how close he is, he can't hold himself back from it, either.

«Yes, I'm here, I'm with you, come for me--»

Erik's mouth comes open in a moan, and he does, his cock jerking, painting himself with it. Charles tips his head down to watch, needing to see it, every gorgeous streak, and then the sensation slams into him, too, Erik's orgasm jerking him up and over the edge nearly despite himself. He drives into Erik again and again, crying out, coming deep inside him, and Erik's groan of satisfaction echoes Charles's own.

Charles catches himself on his hands, trying to bear some of his own weight instead of folding Erik in half, but it's still a few moments before he can draw in a full breath, let alone move. Erik squirms a little, though, and Charles draws back, collapsing at Erik's side.

Erik rolls over and buries his face against Charles's neck. He doesn't manage to send words, but Charles picks up the emotion-- love, happiness, relief. Erik's still with him, hasn't fallen into headspace. Charles gets an arm around Erik and hugs him tightly.

«We could rest,» Charles sends, kissing Erik's forehead. Erik nods; Charles can feel his cheeks curving into a smile.

«...sleep,» Erik sends. «Let's sleep.»

Charles has known many, many pairs of soulmates, and he's seen, even sensed, the way they felt together. It still didn't prepare him for this, for feeling this much tenderness toward his own.

«Yes,» he sends back, his arm around Erik's shoulders, Erik sliding an arm over his chest, a leg over Charles's thighs. «Yes, darling. Let's sleep.»


	22. Working It Out (2/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's issues with submission aren't gone, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has an appearance in the beginning of dream/flashback Shaw. Skip ahead to "blue LED numbers" if you need to avoid that part!

Erik looks younger when he's sleeping, somehow. Charles slides a hand over his shoulders, humming softly to himself, more than pleased with the way things are working out between himself and his bondmate.

In his sleep, Erik twitches underneath Charles's touch, an unhappy noise making its way out of his throat. Charles bends down and kisses the back of Erik's neck, brushing Erik's hair aside so he can touch bare skin. Erik's hair curls here, in the back, where it's longest. Charles isn't certain whether he'd rather see it cut, so there's easier access to Erik's joining spot, or whether he'd prefer it left long, making him look like the pretty little sub he is.

That thought seems-- wrong. Charles feels it, a twinge deep in his gut, but he reaches out and draws the sheet down Erik's back anyway.

That's even more wrong, and Charles wants to frown in confusion. And yet, he's licking his lips, his breath coming faster as he takes in Erik's bare back. He's so slim, so slender, but he'll fill out eventually. It's not like they don't have time.

The sheet comes down past Erik's waist, over his arse, and Erik squirms a little more. That won't do. Charles pins Erik down, one hand in the center of Erik's back. His other hand glides down, down over the smooth, untouched skin of Erik's lower back, the gorgeous dimples--

\--smooth, untouched--

\--his _hand_ \--

There's a reason people use the phrase _know it like the back of my hand_ ; the instant Charles spots those hands, he knows they aren't his. The metacarpophalangeal joint is all wrong, a smooth line from wrist to thumbnail, not the sharply angled joint on Charles's own hand. Charles has never much cared for that joint, it makes his hands look pointy and angular, but just now he'd do anything to see his own hands on Erik again.

Because he wouldn't be doing this to Erik, wouldn't be holding him down and--

It isn't him. These aren't even his thoughts-- no, _memories;_ this isn't his dream. He realizes it, and as soon as he's had the thought, he pushes and pulls, trying to wave Erik's nightmare away from both of them. He's had lucid dreams all his life. He has plenty of practice. This should be easy, it should be simple. He should be able to bring Erik home, get him out of this place, _Erik, I'm here, I'm here!_

"You awake, baby?"

Charles never heard that voice in person, but he recognizes it from Erik's memories. In his entire life, Charles has rarely wished another person harm, much less death, but right now, one death seems better than Sebastian Shaw deserved.

"Sebastian... sir... please..."

Charles feels himself moving-- _not_ himself, not himself, this isn't him, it isn't, but the body he's trapped in moves, its legs pushing between Erik's thighs. This can't happen. He'll save Erik, he has to, it's his _job_ , he's Erik's dominant, he should be able to protect him--

"Shhhh. It's okay, it's all right... I'm right here. Your dom's right here, baby." Another kiss against the back of Erik's neck, and if Charles could materialize and physically throw Shaw off Erik, he would.

He jerks at the hold this dream has on him-- if he can wake up, he can jostle Erik awake, as well. He has to try.

"...please, not yet... it's too soon, not yet, I'm not ready... please, Sebastian..."

His teeth sink down on Erik's neck, and Charles jerks harder, gasping as he tears himself away from Shaw's body. He's floating now, an astral presence near the ceiling of the room, looking down at Shaw and Erik, this bedroom in Shaw's monstrosity of a home, the tangled sheets, the blanket laid out at the foot of the bed... Erik's blanket, Charles has no doubt. No pallet on the floor, not this time, and in this tangle of minds and memory, Charles knows it was meant to be a _reward_. As if Erik wanted to sleep anywhere near Shaw. The pallet was probably Erik's refuge.

 _Wake up,_ Charles tells himself. _Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!_

He doesn't know if this is better or worse, being trapped here on the ceiling, watching from a distance and unable to help, or move, or even scream--

"-- _Erik._ " His throat aches, but the sound croaks out of him, aloud. He's awake. 

Charles reaches over to Erik's side of the bed as he tries to blink his eyes open, tries to see into the darkness of their hotel room, relieved only by the blue LED numbers of the bedside clock.

Erik isn't there.

Charles starts to turn over, but there's a noise from the foot of the bed, and something's got his feet immured-- he leans up on his elbow, squinting, and the shape at his feet clutches at his ankles, makes another distressed noise.

"Erik," Charles whispers, turning fully now, slipping his feet out from Erik's hold so he can reach down and take Erik's shoulder in his hand. He gives Erik a firm shake-- it's not going to be the most gentle way to come out of the dream, but at this point, surely anything's better than staying asleep. "Erik. Erik, wake up, you're safe. You're here with me, you're safe."

Erik's head snaps up, and he looks around; in the dim, Charles can only see hints of movement, glimpses of his wide, wild eyes catching the scant light. His expression creases into confusion, and he murmurs, "Charles?"

"I'm here." Charles reaches out to him. To his relief, Erik clambers back up the bed, crushing Charles in his arms. 

Charles holds on just as tightly. "It was just a nightmare, love. He can't hurt you anymore. No one will hurt you ever again."

«I hate dreaming about him,» Erik sends. «He's dead, and I can't stop dreaming about him...»

«I'm here now. You're not alone.» Charles rests a hand between Erik's shoulder blades, begins to slide his hand up-- but the memory of Shaw's teeth on the back of Erik's neck is still so fresh, and Charles doesn't want to remind Erik of that, not even for an instant. He rests his palm gently over soul's-home instead, a place that only lights up for them alone. «It's all right. You can go back to sleep. I'll watch over you, I'll make sure you aren't dreaming of him.»

«I'm not going back,» Erik sends. But he's beginning to relax, thankfully. Charles kisses his temple, trying his best to send calm and respite, a shelter from all those painful memories.

«He'll never touch you again. Never,» Charles promises.

Erik drifts off in his arms, and Charles stays awake to keep guard, fingertips glancing over Erik's temple now and then, just to be sure the twitches he feels from Erik are nothing more than hypnagogic jerks, reflex motions. He throws his mind open to Erik as fully as he can, to catch any dreams as soon as they start. Eventually, Charles slips into sleep again as well.

\---

Erik wakes up snarled in the covers, his head down at Charles's waist. It's several seconds before he can untangle himself, and by then, he's managed to wake Charles up, too.

"Apparently I was trying to get somewhere interesting in my sleep," Erik jokes, but the look on Charles's face is so crushed and so serious that Erik sobers instantly. "Did I do something? What's the matter?"

"You don't remember dreaming?" Charles asks, grave but hopeful.

Erik does, unfortunately. Worse, as soon as he does remember, he realizes why he was squirming down the bed in his sleep.

"I was trying to stretch out at your feet," Erik mutters, working twice as hard now to get out from under the covers.

Charles tries to help, tugging at the knotted blankets without budging them. "You said something about that before. The first night we were together in Boston," he recalls. "You were afraid you'd wake up curled at my feet."

Finally Erik manages to extricate himself from the covers, shoving them down and off the bed in a messy heap. "I didn't think I meant it _literally_ ," he mutters.

"I should have said..." Charles starts to reach out, but his hand lands on the sheets between them before Erik can meet him halfway. He looks miserable. Even without the bond giving him Charles's emotions, it tugs at Erik's heartstrings-- not a comfortable feeling on top of all this frustration.

"Should have said?" Erik prompts.

"Before we ever slept together I should have told you... I don't shield my mind effectively when I'm falling asleep or waking up. And in my sleep, I pick up dreams sometimes. I caught a glimpse of part of your dream. I tried to wake you."

Erik grimaces, but he climbs back up the bed anyway, landing on his back next to Charles. "I thought I was over those sorts of dreams."

This time when Charles reaches out, he makes contact. His hand smooths Erik's hair back, stroking lightly around the curve of his ear, down to his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I can try to teach you some lucid dreaming techniques that might help you wake yourself up."

"Yes," Erik murmurs, eyes slipping closed. He reaches up and catches Charles's hand, and draws it up to his mouth so he can kiss Charles's fingertips. "You can _always_ wake me up if I'm dreaming like that. Any way you want." He turns over on his side and looks at Charles again. "You said you caught a glimpse of it..." Charles saw too much of Sebastian already, in Erik's mind, that first day they met. Erik would have given anything not to force any more on him. "What did you see?"

"A memory, I think. I heard Shaw's voice." Charles's own voice is growing harsher as he says, "He put his hand on your back." A line carves deep between Charles's eyebrows, and his jaw goes tense and tight. "I wanted to knock him away from you so badly. I tried to wake you."

Erik reaches out, covering Charles's joining spot with his palm. The connection lights him up, a spark running through his arm, all the way past his shoulder, soul's-home calling out for Charles in a way it never did for Sebastian. "I don't belong to him. I never did."

"No," Charles whispers. "You never did." He slides closer, his palm moving to rest against Erik's chest. Erik can match that motion, even lying on his side as he is; he lifts Charles's windcatcher with his power, centering the rings above Charles's heart. Charles glances down and looks back up at Erik-- for a moment, Erik sees a trace of the delight that always appears on his face when Charles sees or senses the use of someone's gift.

"I've never had much in the way of good dreams," Erik admits. "I wish we could have shared yours instead."

Smiling, Charles reaches up and cups Erik's cheek. "My dreams are mostly boring, I think, but I'll share them if I can."

"There's nothing wrong with boring dreams," Erik says, smiling back. «And they're _yours_. I'd like to see them.»

Charles leans forward and closes the distance between them, pressing a gentle kiss to Erik's mouth. «We can try whenever you like.»

That kiss is growing less and less gentle by the moment, though, and Erik begins tracing circles over Charles's joining spot as he kisses back. «Right now I'd rather be awake. With you.»

He gasps when Charles presses a knee forward, getting it between Erik's legs, giving Erik his thigh to rub up against. As if all that wasn't enough, he moves his hand to soul's-home and matches Erik's motions, small circles, gentle pressure, all of it building and building until Erik's gasping against his mouth. «What should we do now that we're awake again?»

Erik laughs, the sound shared with Charles, their lips turning up together. «I think we'll figure it out.»

«I think,» Charles sends, rolling Erik over on his back-- and Erik goes, eagerly, spreading his thighs to keep Charles between them-- «we already have.»

\---

It's a wonderful first day, although they don't see much of Mill Point. When it comes time to have dinner, they can't think of any reason to leave the hotel, ordering room service instead.

"I've been thinking about..." Erik says, looking at the menu and setting it down carefully. He doesn't finish that sentence, but Charles forces himself to be patient. Erik feels nervous to him, although Charles hopes that's not _all_ those emotions mean. Through the bond, it seems so obvious, but maybe not. Or maybe it's a good sort of nervous, because Erik's smiling.

Curiosity wins out over patience, and Charles prompts, "Thinking about...?"

"About the handfeeding menu. Ordering something off it."

It's an effort to keep his voice even, but Charles manages to only say, "Oh? Would you like that, do you think?"

Erik glances at him, and Charles forces down the resulting wave of disappointment-- too much, too intent, he can't put pressure on Erik.

"If you want to, of course. But only then. I'd never ask you to--"

"I think I might like it," Erik says simply, and Charles is glad he's sitting down, because the very idea makes him weak in the knees. "I don't think I'd want to do it kneeling-- I'm not sure I'd even want to do it directly from hand to mouth. But..." He scratches at his neck for a moment and then finally says, "I've thought about what it would be like if we were using steel flatware, something we just use for-- that-- and how it would be to have your fingers on a fork, or a spoon, sharing something with me across a table..."

"Of course, the metal," Charles says, smiling. "I can see how that would be more comfortable for you. And I'd love to. Whenever you're ready."

"We'll do some shopping tomorrow," Erik promises. The thought sends Charles scrambling into Erik's lap, straddling him, his hands sliding into Erik's hair and his fingertips seeking out soul's-home, and Erik's just started kissing Charles's neck when there's a knock at the door.

"We really have to stop getting things started when someone's about to knock," Erik growls, but Charles can feel him grinning, too. "We'll get right back to this as soon as we've eaten, won't we?"

"Absolutely," Charles assures him.

"All right. Then I think I can wait until we've had some food. I _think_."

Charles is laughing as he lets the bellhop in, and even without handfeeding, it's a lovely dinner. It feels right, sitting across the table from Erik, smiling at him over a meal. He can't think of anywhere he'd rather be.

\---

Maybe it's the fact that it's night, rather than the two of them taking a post-coital nap, but it feels easier touching Erik's dream this time than it did last time. Charles isn't certain he's pulling Erik out of a dream about Shaw, but the bedroom in Erik's dream looks the same. Charles doesn't want to take any chances.

He stretches out alongside Erik at the foot of the bed, propping his head on his hand and waiting for Erik to notice him. It doesn't take very long.

"Who...?" Erik's eyes go wide. Charles realizes that, once again, Erik looks young-- barely seventeen, with hair long enough to curl in the back. "I know you..."

"You know me," Charles says softly. He reaches up and touches the windcatcher over his heart, remembering as vividly as he can how that shape feels to Erik when he's reaching out for those perfect metal rings in reality, and recreating that sensation for him in the dream. Instantly, Erik's eyes are drawn to it. It isn't only his eyes, though. Charles can feel Erik's sense for metal, touching the windcatcher, recognizing it as his own.

Erik scrambles forward, his arms winding around Charles's neck. He buries his face against Charles's neck. «You found me,» he sends. «You found me, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I missed you, I missed you so much...»

«I know,» Charles sends, wrapping his arms around Erik, pulling him close. «I know. Erik, it's me. It's Charles. You're dreaming, but I'm really here. I'm here with you.»

He doesn't feel it happening, but the next thing he knows, Erik's pulling back, and he's himself again-- the proud, beautiful man Charles acknowledged on New Year's Eve. His hair is short again, his face lined a bit more with age, his cheeks lightly stubbled. He takes a deep breath and sits up, pulling Charles with him.

"Can you take us away from here? Anywhere."

"I thought of somewhere I'd like to show you. The house where I grew up. Would you like to see it?"

Erik nods, and in the flowing, non-linear way of dreams, the two of them are standing now at the side of the bed. Erik's dressed in his Iron Maiden shirt and a pair of worn-thin jeans, and Charles is wearing what he wore yesterday-- a cardigan, a button-down shirt, khaki trousers. Charles takes Erik's hand and opens a door, one Erik startles at-- it's a new one, one that Charles added to the room in order to pull them out of this dream.

He leads Erik out of the dark room directly to a sunny day in the courtyard of the Westchester estate. 

It's all here, recreated from Charles's precise memory: the circular drive, the lush lawn and groomed topiary and bristling evergreen trees, the garden in the roundabout with the tiled dais to display the statue at its center. Cast in bronze, it's not likely to be recognizable to anyone who doesn't work with fissionable materials; it's a replica of Brian Xavier's first major invention, his safer, more efficient water-cooled reactor pressure vessel for nuclear power plants.

If they were really visiting the estate, Erik would be able to sense the bronze, but Charles can't replicate that aspect for him. Charles is creating this dream, and he doesn't share Erik's sense for metal. If Erik had a memory of the statue, Charles might be able to use that now, as he did with the windcatcher earlier, but he can't simulate Erik's metallokinetic sense of something that Erik's never sensed himself. A dimension will be missing from this virtual tour for Erik, but Charles hopes to share as much as he can, apart from that.

"It feels like we're being watched," Erik frowns. "Or... not watched, but... it feels like there are people here, even though I don't see anyone."

"I'm sensing the minds of the other people in our hotel," Charles says. "That tends to stay with me in my dreams. It's background noise to me. I can shut it out, it just takes more effort when I'm dreaming."

"Don't," says Erik at once. "I'd rather feel it like this. What it's like for you."

It's not usually quite like this for Charles; right now, his sense of the outside world is dulled and indistinct, dormant along with the rest of him. But Charles can sense that Erik is no longer disturbed by the minds of the other people nearby, now that he knows what they are; that Erik is even pleased, to share in Charles's mutation this way. That's too special to spoil with pedantic distinctions. Maybe someday Charles can show him the difference firsthand. For now he lets it go, watching as Erik adjusts to the feel of all those other minds and returns his attention to their surroundings.

"Where are we?"

"This is my family's place in Westchester," Charles explains. Even if it's not quite like being there, this is a way to share some pleasant memories with Erik without spoiling them with what came later, or risking an encounter with the Markos. "First I'll show you the hedge maze. It's one of my favorite places."

He leads Erik across the grounds. "When I was young, my parents were advised to isolate me."

"Isolate you?" Erik frowns. "Were you sick? Did you get sick easily?" He reaches out, even within the dream, to wrap an arm around Charles's waist. Charles feels a lurch of guilt even as he leans nearer to Erik, that Erik might think it's something so benign.

"No," Charles murmurs. "As near as anyone can tell, I've been telepathic since birth. I remember my third birthday, and I was definitely sensing thoughts and emotions then."

"And that made someone suggest isola--" Erik catches himself, stumbling and coming to a halt. "That's awful. Human physicians..."

"It doesn't really matter who made the suggestion," Charles points out. "Plenty of telepaths are advised to sequester themselves, for their own good if not for others' sake."

"I-- realize that," Erik says, still frowning. "But it's wrong, Charles. How young were you when they suggested it-- did you say three?"

"Around then. But my father didn't agree with isolation. He thought I should be around people to develop my abilities."

"I'm glad." Charles catches a flash of light and sensation from Erik, and realizes that Erik's turned his bracelet so that the larger rings are pressed tightly to the inside of his wrist. "I'm glad you had him, even for so short a time."

"I am, too. Since my father wanted me around people, we stayed in Borehamwood-- it's a biggish sort of suburb outside London. We were there til I was four. Then Dad moved us here so he could work on a project in New York."

"Four," Erik muses. "I would have been five, then. Mom and I were still living in Chicago, near her family. But my father was gone already. My mutation was clearly manifesting when I was four, I could use it by my fourth birthday, but my mother used to say I liked metal toys best, even as a baby."

"Really!" Charles can imagine that easily, now that Erik's mentioned it. "What sort of toys did you have when you were small?"

"I don't know, honestly. We traveled so much, we didn't really have keepsakes, so I didn't have anything to look back at and remember..." Erik glances up at the estate again. "But tell me about the house. Did he buy it when you came here?"

"Oh, no. This house was in Father's family donkey's years, but it'd been neglected. He decided to have it brought up to code and restored. We moved in when once finished the main house, while the builders worked their way through the outer wings and then the outbuildings. Father used to have all sorts of plans for what to do with the place, once it was all inhabitable again."

Charles walks them along the flower border, skirting the maze. The hedges are immense, a good seven feet tall and meticulously well-tended. "There's a fountain at the center of the maze. If we were really there, you could feel the pipes. Not to mention the fountain itself. I think the centerpiece is brass."

"I can't wait to see it in person," Erik says. "But this is lovely. And so much better than-- where I was, when the dream started. Thank you for this."

"Gladly!" Charles has to hold Erik at that, even if they're only in a dream. When they part, he suggests, "Let's skip to the middle."

He shifts the remembered landscape to place them inside the maze, between the hedges just a few feet back from the center, so that they can walk around the last corner and see the spectacular middle garden, walled with rose trellises, bright flowerbeds everywhere. 

He points out the patch of mixed wildflowers. "My father wanted a Linnaeus flower clock in this biggest flowerbed, but even our talented gardeners couldn't keep all the different plants healthy in the same bed. So he had those plants all put in boxes, planning to make the clock somewhere else, and just scattered wildflower seeds here. It looked lovely... the rest of this area being so manicured, and then the biggest patch a tangle, all different heights and colors. It's not like this anymore, but this is how I like to remember it."

"Is this where you were when you sparked?" Erik asks.

"That would've been perfect, wouldn't it? But no." At times like this, Charles wishes he had a bit more of a romantic streak, for Erik's sake. Erik told Charles the story of when he sparked, but it's never occurred to Charles that of course Erik would be curious about Charles's experience of the same thing. "I was at dinner when I first thought I felt something. I excused myself to my room to concentrate. That's where it happened. We can go there next, if you like."

"Show me!" Erik urges, squeezing his hand.

Charles shifts their position in the memory, placing them in the corridor, and opens the door to his old bedroom. 

He leads Erik to the window seat, pulling back the heavy drape. "Here. This was my favorite place in the house." With a little concentration, he changes the relative size of this part of the room so that he and Erik can fit on the window seat the way Charles and Raven did when they were twelve. He takes Erik's hand and guides him in first.

Once in, Erik looks out the window, up at the stars, orienting himself unerringly, turning westward. "I was there. I heard you..."

"Yes." Charles settles in the window seat opposite him, his chest aching with conflicting feelings about that: his mental voice reaching Erik, and all it wrought. He draws the heavy curtain, cloaking them from the house, just the huge windows looking out over the grounds and part of the hedge maze as dusk creeps in.

Closing his eyes, his face smooth with rare tranquility, Erik brings the words up out of the past: «Are you out there? Can you hear me... oh, is that you? Is it?»

«I can't wait to meet you,» Charles responds, his own memory of that first spark nearly perfect. Those years when Charles thought he was abandoned, memories like these became bittersweet; and now, the recollection is tinted with foreboding. How wrong he was, how disastrous his mistakes would prove to be...

 _I can't wait to meet you._ But Charles did wait, far too long. And the very next thing he sent his soulmate, greedy right from the start, was _I know we'll have to... but I hope maybe we can talk to each other til then._

Thank God, his side of the bond is still absent, and Erik doesn't feel his remorse, weighing down memories that should be joyful.

Indeed, Erik's filled with rare happiness, savoring this joining of their pasts, recalling: «We can't know yet... but I hope... I want you to be like me. A mutant. Is that why I can hear you? Oh, I can't wait to find out...»

It feels unfair to keep back the memory, even as much as Charles is ashamed of it now. He swallows his guilt and responds with his side of that long-ago day. «I'm a mutant. A telepath. I've always wanted-- I've always wanted to find someone who wouldn't mind that I can hear their thoughts. I already know how you feel through the bond... maybe it would be all right...?»

«I'm here, Charles. It's me.» Erik opens his eyes and meets his gaze, eyes alight with fierce and staggering devotion. «I'm the one you were waiting for.»

Charles crosses to Erik and holds him. Finally, this is a thought he can share with no shadows, and no regrets: «You're the one I've been waiting for. I love you, Erik.»

A smile plays on Erik's lips at that, and he tangles up with Charles... and begins to sink into a deeper sleep, fading out of the dream. 

Feeling Erik dropping out of his REM state and into restful delta wave sleep, Charles relaxes, and lets himself follow.


	23. Working It Out (3/?)

When Erik first wakes, he's a bit cold. He tugs the covers up over his shoulder, burrows down against Charles's ankles, and goes back to sleep.

A little later, he wakes up again. This time he recognizes where he is, and what he's done, and he twists back around in bed, trying to move back up to Charles's side.

«?» The little mental inquiry makes Erik's eyes sting, and with that rush of guilt and frustration, Charles comes more fully awake. «What is it, darling, what's wrong...?»

"I failed you," Erik says aloud. "Us. I failed us. Again."

"Erik, no, it's not like that at all." Charles sits up and pulls Erik into his arms. Erik lets himself take comfort in that for a few seconds-- it seems as if Charles might need it as badly as Erik does-- but soon he has to wipe his face with the back of his hand, exhaling sharply. The frustration must be coming off him in waves. It can't be comfortable for Charles, being tied to Erik's emotions just now.

"I don't know why--" He shakes his head. "You know... I used to fantasize about that when I was a teenager."

"What?"

"Sleeping at your feet." Erik sighs. "It's one of those things... one of those things I used to imagine myself doing, back when I felt like a submissive. But I thought I'd offer it, not just-- not just do it automatically." _Not just have it taken from me,_ he doesn't have to say. Charles saw him in Sebastian's bed; Charles knows-- Erik hopes he knows-- that Erik never offered Sebastian anything freely. Not his submission. Not ever.

It didn't stop Sebastian from taking it, though. Ruining it, and Erik, in the process.

Charles is a soothing presence, the tug of their connection keeping Erik grounded. Charles even lifts a hand to soul's-home, stroking Erik there, waiting for Erik's swell of emotions to ease.

"It's all right," Charles says, finally. "If it's a problem, maybe we need a narrower bed, or a body pillow in the way to stop you moving in your sleep..."

"You could tie me up," Erik says. He isn't sure he means it as a joke.

Charles doesn't wince, but Erik wonders if he wants to. "Even the most forgiving restraints aren't rated for more than four hours' consecutive use."

"Neoprene ones aren't so bad for--" At the look on Charles's face, Erik shuts up. They both know why Erik has experience with overnight bondage, and that the man who shackled him overnight with neoprene cuffs-- and leather cuffs-- and steel cuffs, though that was just the once-- didn't worry about whether they were rated for long-term use or not.

When Charles looks back up at Erik, his mouth is tight. "I don't want to hurt you," he says firmly.

"Wouldn't you want me there?" Erik presses. "If I were a real sub?"

"Would I want you..."

"Down at the foot of the bed. At your feet." Erik swallows down the urge to let this conversation die out. He needs to put this on the table, if nothing else. "If I were a real sub, isn't that where you'd want me?"

Charles's confusion snaps into a look of baffled frustration, lips pursing, eyebrows arcing upward. "I don't know where to start answering that. 'A real sub'?" he repeats, as if he of all people doesn't know what that entails. The man teaches concordance, for pity's sake. "If you _wanted_ to sleep at the foot of the bed, I wouldn't mind. I'd rather sleep beside you."

"But if I were a real sub you'd want me at your feet. You wouldn't have to settle for anything less than that..."

At that, Charles rocks back, frowning deeply. "No, Erik. I've never wanted a partner to sleep at my feet, regardless of orientation. There's no 'settling' involved."

For a few seconds, Erik can only stare at Charles, wondering if he means that-- but there's no hint that Charles is being anything less than honest. It makes Erik's chest ache, seeing the unsettled look on Charles's face, and he takes a slow breath, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment. "Then-- it's not what either of us wants."

Charles reaches out, cupping Erik's cheek in his hand. "No," he agrees. "So we'll find a way to stop it happening. Who knows, maybe now that it's not something you feel obliged to do for my sake... perhaps you won't drift down there in your sleep."

It's a nice thought, one that lets Erik relax for another day filled mostly with lovemaking and talking. But the next morning, Erik awakens with an arm curled around Charles's ankles. He tries to climb out of bed before Charles can notice how frustrated he is, but there's little hope of that. The bond may still be directional-only for Erik, but Charles can feel Erik's frustration, soul's-home to soul's-home.

«Darling...»

"I'm fine," Erik says gruffly. "I'm just going to piss, I'll be right back."

«Erik, it's all right,» Charles sends, and now that Erik's awake, Charles's voice in his head is reassuring. Still, he heads for the bathroom, shuts the door gently, takes care of his uncomfortably full bladder and then thoroughly washes his hands and his face, staring at himself in the mirror.

He's a different man now. He's a _man_ , not a boy. No one's boy. Whatever submission he can offer to Charles, however little that might be, he's doing it of his own free will. He _has_ to be.

He comes back to bed and slides in next to Charles, slipping an arm around Charles's waist. Charles hums and tucks his head against Erik's shoulder.

«Better?»

«In every possible way,» Erik sends, resting his forehead against Charles's temple. «Maybe today we should actually try getting a look at Mill Point. We've only got a few more days before the conference starts.»

«Absolutely. Wake me when you're ready.» Charles stifles a yawn against Erik's shoulder, sleepy and pliant, and Erik strokes his hair, tilting his head to kiss Charles's temple. He wonders how normal it is, a submissive-- even a former submissive-- feeling this protective toward his dominant.

Normal or not, he curls his arms around Charles and holds him while he dozes. He ends up drowsing a bit himself, and when Charles yawns and stretches a little, Erik's pleased to note that he hasn't gone anywhere-- no moves toward the foot of the bed this time. He can't live on twenty-minute half-sleeping stretches, but it's a start.

Charles leans up and kisses him. «Well,» he sends, smiling, his eyes still mostly shut. «What should we explore first?»

\---

Walking down the streets of Mill Point with his soulmate, hand-in-hand, feels like a luxury Erik never expected to have. Every so often Charles reaches out with his thumb and touches Erik's bracelet, sending a shiver through Erik each time.

Exploring the town is nearly as much of a thrill. Everywhere Erik goes, he sees mutants. Mutant couples walking around holding hands. Mutant parents, mutant children, mutant teenagers. Even the people without visible mutations are wearing circle-M pins, like the one Charles has on his lapel, or Mutant Pride t-shirts, or something that marks them as belonging. Erik's been tempted to look for a pin or a necklace himself; there's a jewelry shop in town.

"Coffee?" Charles asks, nodding toward the coffeeshop. It looks to be attached to a used bookstore; no wonder it got Charles's attention. "I could do with a cuppa-- it's a cold morning!"

The chill has put a bit of a flush in Charles's cheeks, and it's making his lips look redder than ever. Erik's tempted to take Charles right back to the hotel; there's coffee and tea there. But they're already at the coffeeshop, and Erik nods gamely, letting Charles lead the way in.

"Morning, fellas," says the man behind the counter. He looks to be about fiftyish, a sub with long, greying brown hair. He's handsome enough, with a strong jawline and sharp cheekbones, and his hands are deft and quick as he sets two cups on the counter-- one teacup with saucer, one enormous mug for coffee.

As they approach the counter, Charles laughs delightedly; he picks up the teacup and warms his hands on it, inhaling the steam. "Earl Grey," he says. "How did you know?"

"I'm John," says the other man-- a mutant, no doubt about it now. He holds his hand out, and Erik takes it-- which makes John take in a breath and hold it for a moment. Their eyes meet and lock, and Erik has a moment of déjà vu, as if he knows this man. They haven't met, though; Erik would have remembered that.

"Erik," Erik offers, and then nodding to Charles, "and this is my soulmate, Charles."

"Congratulations," John says, offering his hand to Charles next. Charles takes it, smiling. "How's it going?"

Charles pauses, looking from John to Erik. "Very well, thank you," he says. "But you aren't asking about our day, are you?"

"No, I guess I'm not. It's fine, by the way. Surface moods." John nods at Charles. He looks back at Erik for a moment, and then Charles again. "Precog. Tau-level. I see threads, different versions of reality."

"So you've met us before?" Charles asks. The rapt fascination in his voice is becoming familiar. "Or is it more as if you're simultaneously meeting quite a lot of versions of us now?"

This time when John's eyes linger on Erik, Erik raises an eyebrow. John nods, though, not backing down from that look. "Before, mostly. More Erik than you," John says. "But I've met you both."

"I've probably been here more often," Erik says lightly. He brushes his hand across Charles's, and Charles laces his fingers with Erik's, holding on. "So far I love it here."

"It's a beautiful place. And the community's incredible. There's nothing else like it."

"No place like home," Erik offers. Charles turns to him, and Erik meets his eyes briefly before picking up his coffee mug. "Thank you for the coffee."

"And the tea," Charles says. "How much do I owe you?"

"Eighteen, with the books," John says, nodding over at one of the tables. There's a stack of paperbacks there, tied with string. Amused, Erik heads over, and once he's paid, Charles joins him.

"What have we here?" Charles asks. Erik's already laughing, looking at the stack and its titles.

"This is for me," Erik says. He turns the stack so Charles can see them. "I've read this one," he says, tapping at one of the middle books. It's a romance novel from the early '90s titled _Worth The Wait_. "And I think these next three are sequels, or in the same series, or something." They share an author, the fonts are similar, and they all have a play on the word "Wait" in the title. The rest of the paperbacks look equally lurid. Erik glances up at Charles, hoping he won't poke fun-- well, not too much, at least. "One of my weaknesses," Erik admits. "I always liked trashy romances."

"That was thoughtful, then," Charles says, taking another look back at John. "I wonder how often you've been here. In other versions of the timeline, I mean."

"I'm not sure I believe in parallel timelines," Erik says, reaching over and sliding his hand over Charles's. "I'd rather focus on the one we're in."

Charles smiles at him. "It's intriguing, though, isn't it? Our new friend's experiences lend credence the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, in which case not only could there be parallel timelines, there could well be an infinite number of them. Or perhaps what he possesses is an acute ability to extrapolate probabilities..."

"It doesn't matter," Erik insists, squeezing Charles's hand. "I'm here with you now. I don't want to think about any-when else."

Smiling, Charles leans over and kisses Erik. «When you put it that way... I agree.»

\---

As much research as Charles did into Mill Point, there isn't really much to see here. The town has been a haven for mutants for decades, and a holiday destination nearly as long, but it remains a small town with a population under ten thousand. It offers a sober museum of mutant history downtown, as well as a more tourist-trap sort of museum of taxidermied mutant animals which is positioned near the highway, and seems calculated to draw in, extract money from, and usher out baseline human gawkers.

There are the usual small businesses, and restaurants and hotels catering to tourists; there are shops with more Mutant Pride memorabilia than Charles has seen anyplace other than fundraisers. Erik lingers over a huge bin full of silicone wristbands, the sort one finds at clubs-- except all of these have a tiny DNA logo on them, indicating mutation along with everything else.

"There comes a point when it's just too much," Charles protests, fishing a yellow wristband out of the bin. "The stylized DNA symbol-- and don't get me started on that, by the way-- is meant to represent that one's mutation has to do with the kink in question. Are there really enough mutants out there with abilities related to watersports to justify an entire bin of these?"

"I think it's just indicating the _wearer_ is a mutant, in this case," Erik says. He finds a silvery one and grins. "I'm getting this for Jason, and I ought to find one for Kurt..."

"Get Kurt the same one," Charles jokes. "They can switch off who's the star and who's the starfucker depending on which one of them's had a show more recently."

Erik's grin gets even wider, and he fishes another silvery wristband out of the bin. "There we are. Nothing for us, though."

"No?" Charles slips an arm around Erik's waist. "I admit, I know quite a few of the things you like, but not all of them."

"I'd rather have us find out one-on-one," Erik says, turning to face Charles, his own arms coming around Charles's shoulders. "And it's not as if we're going to be hitting the clubs anytime soon."

"Most definitely not." Charles comes up on his toes and kisses Erik-- slow at first, but then more demanding. Probably too demanding for a shop, particularly when Charles slips a hand up to caress Erik's joining spot. But there's no one back here, and the glazed look in Erik's eyes when Charles finally lets him go is incredibly satisfying. In fact...

«I do hope there's at least one well-stocked shop here,» Charles sends, his palm hot against soul's-home. Erik shivers. No need to elaborate on what sort of shop Charles means. «I'd love to take you shopping... for just the two of us...»

«I looked it up,» Erik sends back, his thoughts flatteringly jangled. «It's just down the street.» The address flashes into Charles's mind, along with Erik's unerring sense of direction. «Can we go now?»

«Absolutely.» Charles plants one more kiss on him and steps back. «I can't wait.»

The gear shop turns out to be mostly empty as well-- there's a domme and her submissive holding hands and looking at corsets. At first Charles wonders why the domme is wearing sandals in January in Maine, for pity's sake, but then he notices the small wings on her ankles. Erik follows Charles's gaze and grins, reaching for Charles's hand.

«I don't think I'm ready for corsets yet,» Erik sends, although something wistful comes through with the thought.

«As gorgeous as you were at the wedding, I understand that was a special occasion,» Charles assures him. «What would you like?»

Erik looks around a bit more seriously, and when his eyes light on the sensation play wall, Charles can almost literally feel him being drawn there. It's one of the things they haven't been able to explore nearly as much as Charles would like. He slips an arm around Erik's waist and walks them over to the display, looking over canes and paddles and slappers and whips and crops.

"What do you like?" Charles asks, coming up on his toes to press a kiss against the strong angle of Erik's jaw.

"Everything," Erik says, a bit breathless. "But this isn't where they keep the metal toys. I was hoping for at least a few things that are metal..."

"Where are the metal toys?" Charles asks, and before the question's fully out of his mouth, Erik has him by the hand, drawing him over to a glass case near the front of the shop. Inside, there are a number of metal implements-- a collection of plugs, some high-quality police handcuffs, Wartenberg wheels, cock rings, and a few leather cases that are zipped shut.

A shopkeeper-- his nametag reads "Dave"-- comes over to the case, smiling at them both. He doesn't have any visible mutations, but there's a little sticker with a delta-symbol next to his name, almost certainly his MAT score. "Hi there," he says. "Would you two like a closer look at anything?"

"We'd like a set of the steel cuffs, there," Erik says, pointing.

"The hinged cuffs or the chain cuffs?"

"Chain," Erik says firmly. He looks over at Charles. "They're more comfortable."

Charles laughs and kisses his cheek. "That's fine. What else?"

"One of those Wartenberg wheels, and--" Erik turns to Charles. "How familiar are you with urethral sounds?"

So that's what the leather cases are. "Moderately," Charles admits. "I've a little practice with the basics." He licks his lips as he looks Erik over, and adds, "Always up for more."

"We'll take the eleven-piece set," Erik says to Dave.

Dave slides the larger of the leather cases out of the display and sets it out for them, unzipping it so they can see the slim metal rods. "Enhanced vision?" he asks Erik.

Erik shakes his head. "A sense for metal."

"Oh, okay." Dave laughs. "We just got a new shipment in from that company that does the really _big_ metal dildos--"

"The Eleven? I have one," Erik admits.

Charles squeezes him around the waist. "If you'd like two..."

"Where would I put the second one?" Erik asked, eyes widening as he looks at Charles.

«In me?» Charles sends, smirking, and the tips of Erik's ears flush bright red as he looks down at the case again. «Could you sense metal if it were inside me? Could you move it?»

Erik nods-- but after a moment, he's shaking his head and blowing out a breath. "One of the single metal cock rings, and one of the triple-rings..."

"What size do you need for the single?"

"Two inches," Charles says immediately, while Erik says, "It doesn't matter."

Charles looks at Erik for a moment and then smiles. "Oh, it wouldn't, would it? You can stretch it if it isn't large enough."

"I try not to, once it's on. It's cheating."

"Nothing wrong with that. You may as well be comfortable."

Their pile's growing larger and larger, and Erik looks at it, brows drawing together in mild concern. "This isn't too much, is it?"

"Of course not," Charles assures him. "I emptied three drawers of gear, all that's cleared out now. We have a lot of stocking up to do."

There's a pang from Erik; Charles slips an arm around his waist. «I took a lot of classes,» Charles offers.

«You don't have to... I know you have an active past,» Erik sends back, gently stepping away. "Why don't we-- look over there." He's back to the sensation play wall again before Charles can say anything else, and once he's there, the uncomfortable, distracted feeling fades away. This time, when Charles puts an arm around Erik's waist, Erik leans in against him, and Charles relaxes as well, squeezing Erik's hips.

"You said you like 'everything', but I wouldn't mind some specifics," Charles says. "What strikes your fancy?"

"Something simple, maybe," Erik suggests. "A flogger?"

"Easily done." Charles picks one off the wall, something with long, thick tails-- just because Erik wants simple doesn't mean he's going to want Charles to go easy on him. The logo catches Charles's attention. "Fist and Chain used to license their name to the shoddiest tat, but they shaped up a couple of years ago. Most everything with their brand on it is top shelf, now."

He gives it a few testing swings in the air, getting a feel for the weight, and he doesn't miss it when Erik makes a small sound behind him, nor the tide of arousal coming through the bond. «Charles...»

«Yes?» Charles glances over his shoulder at Erik, smiling.

Erik's eyes are bright-- and one glance at his crotch confirms for Charles just how interested he is. «If you keep doing that, I'm going to have to take the floor.»

Charles puts the flogger back onto its hook and turns to Erik, trailing his hands down Erik's arms and lacing their fingers together. «Would that be all right? Do we need to slow down?»

Erik gives a quick look around the store. «The pace is fine, but surely they wouldn't want me to... we're in public...»

An 'active past' has its benefits; he grins at Erik. «Did you notice the sign above the door to the fitting rooms?»

«What? No...» Erik glances over; the sign reads KINDLY LIMIT FITTING SESSIONS TO TWENTY MINUTES. «Why would it take twenty minutes to try on a corset...?»

«It wouldn't,» Charles assures him. «But most shops like this adjoin some sort of club or dungeon space, and when they don't, the fitting rooms are usually... multi-purpose. And with this place getting as much tourist trade as it does...»

«Multi-purpose,» Erik repeats, eyes widening. «I thought that was only in porn! Do you really think so?»

Charles can't resist smirking; he licks his lips, his gaze trailing up and down Erik's body. «Anything you want to take with us into the fitting room?»

Erik draws in a breath, his hands tightening on Charles's. «Can we?»

«Yes!» With a light tug on Erik's hands, Charles draws him down, kissing him exuberantly. Erik starts gasping for breath nearly as soon as Charles's lips meet his, and he pulls Charles closer, trying to get Charles's hip against his cock so he can rub up and get some relief.

«Handcuffs, I want the handcuffs, and _anything_ you can hurt me with!»

Swiftly Charles snaps up a steel-handled suede flogger, the twin of the one he taught with last term, as well as a pump bottle of lube and a narrow steel plug, adding it to their selections already at the till and handing over his credit card. "Maybe you could start a running tab on that? We'll take the lot. We're just going to try on a few things before we carry on shopping."

Dave casts a rather wistful eye over their purchases and then the two of them. "Have fun. Let me know if you need anything."

Erik immediately curls his arm around Charles's waist, his emotions flickering through annoyance, jealousy and chagrin. " _We_ will."

"Thanks," Charles adds. He takes the Wartenburg wheel and handcuffs as well as the stuff he's already holding, and smiles back at Erik. «This way.» He leads Erik into the fitting room, well-appointed, enclosed, and obviously soundproofed.

Erik seems fascinated; it's obvious that he's never been in a space like this, which sends a thrill up Charles's spine. "This fitting room... Jason's first dorm room at Carnegie Mellon was smaller than this," he laughs. "Not that there wasn't room for a flogger there--" He stops abruptly, coughing. "Or so I heard."

There's no way Charles is going to let either of them get distracted with their pasts, neither his 'active' one nor Erik's significantly less active-- though clearly significant in other ways-- one. "Big enough for our purposes, I'm sure," Charles says. The usual stool in the corner is leather and padded, large enough for someone to kneel on, and of course the mirrors on two of the walls provide a beautiful view.

In spite of the momentary stutter, Erik's gone on to surveying the rest of the fitting room. "There are hooks at the top of the wall," he notes, brows high. "And..." he pokes at one of the little doors strategically placed on the adjoining wall, one without a mirror. "Glory holes?"

"All the modern conveniences," Charles laughs. "Almost a shame we didn't bring in a sling to try out, but then, in twenty minutes we'd have no time for that on top of everything else." He unloads his armful onto a handy low shelf with a clothing hook below, and backs Erik up against the wall.

So far it's been a tightrope walk nearly every time they've attempted ordinary sex; basic has been less fraught. In theory, they should be able to indulge in sensation play and sadomasochism without submission coming into it, but Charles is keenly aware that this might easily put Erik in a headspace he'd prefer to avoid.

But they won't know what they can have til they explore things together, and right now they're both too excited to put the brakes on. Erik's breath comes faster and faster as his shoulders and then his arse hit the wall; he's tenting his jeans, and Charles is just as indisposed.

He tries not to make it an order: "I want you to put your hands flat against the wall, spread your fingers, and plant your feet shoulder-width apart." ...That missed the target by a considerable margin, he thinks.

Even so, Erik stays steady and fully present as he positions his feet and flattens his hands against the wall at his sides-- steady, present, and blisteringly aroused, drawing rapid, shaky breaths and sending «Please.» mind-to-mind.

That's more than enough to run roughshod over any reservations Charles might've maintained. He tips up and kisses Erik, rough and demanding, fingers seeking and unbuttoning his fly. «Try not to come--» _til I say_ nearly escapes him but he manages to switch the thought instead to, «yet.»

«I'll try!» Erik opens beautifully to the kiss with a little gasp, arousal heightening further still as Charles undoes his fly and opens it, sliding his hand down inside and wrapping his fingers around the base of Erik's cock, hard and thick and solid.

"You feel so good. Every time I touch you." He licks over Erik's parted lips and squeezes again. «Take off your shirt for me, please.» Reluctantly, he lets go to get some of his own clothes off as well, skinning down to his vest.

Nodding, Erik leans forward just enough to drop his jacket to the floor and get his t-shirt and the long-sleeved shirt underneath it off over his head, chucking them aside and resuming position again without even being told, breathing, "Please... Charles, please."

"Give me your wrists, love." Charles fastens on the steel cuffs. His thumb rests briefly on Erik's pulse point, feeling his heartbeat throbbing wild and fast. "I want you to try clasping your hands behind the back of your neck and tell me if it's comfortable. Keep them off your joining spot for now."

Erik lifts his hands up and over his head, and clasps them at the back of his neck, and smiles. "It's comfortable. Should I stay like this?"

"Yes." His fingers find Erik's nipples, lightly pinching and then strongly twisting them.

Gasping, Erik arches into that touch, crying out, "Please, please, please..." It's one of the most gorgeous things Charles has ever heard, and it's a shame when Erik's emotions curdle into embarrassment as he worries-- the thought too loud to ignore-- that they're still in a public place, that someone will hear.

«It's all right, the soundproofing here's quite solid, no one can hear,» Charles promises. "All that noise is just for me, Erik. And I want it," he kisses Erik's throat, pinching harder. «I love it.»

Erik gasps for him, his words coming out of him in fits and bursts. "I love it, too-- you-- I love, oh God, Charles, please, _please_ , I want you to, I _want_ you to, _please_ hurt me."

Nothing could reach Charles more deeply-- nothing save the one thing he won't ask for, the leather he aches to see around Erik's throat. He has something that means more than that, the bracelet that once belonged to his father, and he grips Erik's wrist, his hand covering the metal. "I will," he promises, backing up a step and taking stock of where Erik seems to be. The emotions surging in Erik, shared through the bond, feel like all the things Charles associates with submission: love, trust, that beautiful desire to give in and give over. But he's still upright, still meeting Charles's eyes.

_Please, let him be all right with this..._ "Are you steady on your feet?" Charles asks, his grip on Erik's wrist and bracelet going lighter. "Hands all right where they are?"

A momentary flicker of bemusement crosses through the bond as Erik says, "I'm steady, my hands are still fine here--" And then Charles feels it click for him, why Charles is checking in, and that in turn brings out a confident grin. "I'm fine, Charles. I really am."

Charles comes up close again, standing on his toes so he can rub his nose against Erik's. "Good," he murmurs. "Good. You look incredible."

"So do you," Erik breathes. "Will you hurt me, Charles? Please."

"Absolutely." Charles kisses him, brief but no less demanding. They have twenty minutes; Charles wants to put every second to good use. "Turn around."

Erik does it without a moment's hesitation, not in body or in mind; Charles feels a strong shiver run through his own body, seeing and feeling that. This man, the man Charles loves, with all his strength, all his power... and now, here, he's letting Charles take over. Doing what Charles tells him, and loving it.

A moment's preparation now, and they'll both be rewarded for it later; Charles slicks up the steel plug and pauses as Erik jerks upright a bit more, draws in a breath.

"Oh, you can feel that, can you?"

"Yes," Erik whispers. "Please, Charles-- will you put it inside me?"

Charles chuckles softly. "I can't just yet. We'll need to get your jeans down, first."

Erik pauses. "Should I undo the cuffs...? I could, if I wanted to."

It makes sense that Erik would be familiar with steel handcuffs, but it's always good to know he could free himself in a pinch, for safety's sake. Besides, an excuse to see Erik's ability in use is always a good thing. "Go on," Charles says.

Erik loses no time doing exactly that; within instants, the cuffs click apart, freeing him, and his jeans are down around his thighs, his hands back in place, cuffs restored. Charles steps in and presses two slick fingers against Erik's hole, while Erik moans and pushes back; after all the sex they've had since they got here, Charles isn't at all surprised to find Erik ready to take whatever he's given.

He slips the plug in, savoring Erik's long, desperate moan, and then takes some of the tissues from the box so helpfully provided in the fitting room in order to clean up. "Good?" he asks.

"I love this," Erik moans. Charles can just barely see the plug's base between Erik's cheeks. "Are you going to hurt me now?"

"Almost." With no little regret, Charles gets Erik's jeans back up on his hips and partly does up Erik's fly again. "I think this'll help you hold out and keep from coming while I hurt you."

"Or there's the ring," Erik offers, squirming in his jeans. "We could have just done that."

"Is this all right, though? You won't mind it?"

Erik shakes his head. "It's fine. _I'm_ fine. Except--" He glances back over his shoulder and fixes a smirk at Charles. "Time's wasting."

"Oh, should I pick up the pace?" Charles wraps an arm around Erik's waist and snugs up close behind him, making sure to press up hard against his arse. "I don't want to rush anything."

Erik gasps and pushes his arse back against Charles in response. "Please, Charles. _Please._ "

It really is an effort to back away instead of just shoving Erik's jeans down and plunging into him. He's ready for it-- but then they'd have wasted this lovely opportunity to hurt Erik in a semi-public place, having him walk out of the store with Charles's marks all over him. Not a chance. 

Charles smooths his hand down Erik's back as he looks Erik over-- at the height his jeans are resting at now, all his scars are visible, but they're not what defines the view, not to Charles, not with all this taut, sculpted muscle on display. "God, you're fit. Tell me more about what kind of pain you like." He glances to the shelf and reaches for the Wartenberg wheel. "Stinging? Thuddy?"

He draws the wheel along the line of Erik's shoulders, the points of it gently prickling as it turns. Erik lets out a hiss, but it's a happy one, and when Charles lifts the wheel, Erik takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. "I like hands and mouth best-- pinches, scratches, slaps, bites. But I like metal, too. Floggers... singletails..." He laughs. "There isn't room enough in here for that, but maybe some other time this trip..."

"We'll find a way. I've just done private singletail lessons last year," Charles offers. He'd like to think he means it to be reassuring, but it's more of a boast, really. He turns the serrated wheel to roll it alongside the ridge of Erik's shoulder blade, kissing Erik's shoulder, taking skin between his teeth and sucking at it, biting down to make a mark.

Erik moans and lets his head fall back. «All this and it's _me_ you want. When we get back to the hotel room I'm taking care of you.»

"This is taking care of me." Charles presses up against Erik, his erection more than obvious even through his trousers and Erik's jeans; he grinds against Erik a bit as he marks his other shoulder with another bite. «This is exactly what I want right now.»

«Then take me. Take me...» Erik moans again, rubbing back against Charles, perfectly wanton. «Please, Charles.» "Please!"

The begging alone is enough to make Charles crosseyed, but, «I want to hurt you a little more, first.» He puts the wheel aside and gropes Erik, both hands kneading his arse through his jeans, pinching here and there, harder and harder as he finds Erik can take it.

More, Erik takes it eagerly, gladly, with shuddering little gasps, pushing back insistently into every touch. «Yes, all right, yes, I need that too, want that too-- I can't remember what you brought in, something, give me something, I'll take it for you, I can take anything. Anything for you.»

Charles draws back enough to give him a few hard swats to the arse with his hand; not much of a sting through his jeans, just enough for Erik to feel it. That "anything" and Erik's emotions have Charles a bit concerned that Erik's dropping. Checking in with him might only make him feel self-conscious, so Charles offers him a choice to make sure he's still engaged: «I brought in a flogger. But I can use my hands if you'd rather.»

«I want to know how hard you can hit.» Erik cranes his neck to look back at him, licks his lips, and steadies himself against the wall. «I'm ready-- please?»

Charles steps back a little more to give himself room, and this time he puts his back into it. Soon he's peeling down Erik's jeans, gingerly handling his erection, and delivering a hard spanking to his bare arse. Even with nearly his full strength behind it, Erik's presenting himself for it, pushing into it, hot for it.

«Can I really--» "ah, that's so good--" «can I shout, will it be all right? No one's going to mind?»

Charles keeps it up, his palm feeling it a bit-- he's a little out of practice. But it's so satisfying to be able to take the fetters off with Erik, to really lace into him and feel him getting off on it. «No one will mind. No one else will hear. Let me hear it, Erik.»

«I've never wanted _anyone_ the way I want you--» The next time Charles's palm lands on Erik's arse he cries out, and his happiness lights up their bond.

«That's perfect, Erik-- brilliant--» At this point Charles couldn't care if his arm were falling off, he steps up the speed and carries on, color blooming under his hand over and over again and taking hold til Erik's cheeks are nearly glowing deep pink.

It feels so good to give him this, to feel what Erik feels as he takes this. Erik's flushed and glowing with sweat, his mind radiating «please--» 

All the other words have gone, it's only that, only _please_ again and again. For a moment Charles is afraid he's pushed it too far, that Erik's dropping... he's fairly certain from the vulnerable ache in Erik's emotions that he's close. But God, he's so beautiful like this and he's begging so sweetly--

Charles lets up and drags his hand across his brow. «Are you ready for me to fuck you, love?» It's a question, that counts as checking in...

«Fuck me--» Erik agrees, spreading his legs apart that much further, tilting his hips back, the plug's base shining between his cheeks. «--please--»

«I have you. I'm here,» Charles swears, for whatever that's worth. He gets his trousers down and slicks his cock, works the plug out and tosses it aside, holding Erik's cheeks apart with his thumbs and lining up, nudging against his hole; he guides himself in a little awkwardly, fumbling, but once he's breached Erik, he can shove in hard, how he knows Erik likes it.

Gasping, Erik shoves back, and _growls, _"Yes. God, yes-- so good-- I want you just like this, in me, breaking me open, _yes_ \--"__

__«Do you feel what it does to me to see you hurting for me?» Charles couldn't divorce his emotions from that thought if he wanted to, not when he's so high on finally getting to exercise his sadism with his su-- his _soulmate_. It feels as if he could keep up this punishing pace forever, driving into Erik's body so hard, again and again._ _

__Words spill out of Erik, over his lips, "Do it, fuck me, hurt me, break me, I'm here, Charles, fuckmefuckmefuckme yes-- just-- God, just _put me down and use me_ , I love you, love you--"_ _

__In his wildest imaginings Charles never thought he'd hear anything like that, and he's suddenly too close to draw it out. "I'm going to touch you--" He reaches around Erik's body with a still-slick hand, stroking lube onto him and fisting his cock; the angle is poor, but he grips tight around the head. «I want to feel you come for me, all over my hand.»_ _

__"I will, Charles, I'll come for you, I'll give it up for you, just tell me--" Erik strains against the cuffs. "Just make me, God, I want you to make me," « _make me_.»_ _

__Only focusing on the sheer mechanics of sex keeps Charles from losing it: one hand wanks Erik off, his other hand clamps hard on Erik's hip while he shifts his stance to change the angle of entry just a little, enough to make Erik feel that much more opened up, that much more owned, as Charles fucks him and jerks him with tight short little strokes around the slippery head of his cock. «Come for me--»_ _

__Erik snaps the chain between the cuffs and scrabbles at the wall, desperate, coming with a yell and shooting all over Charles's fingers and the wall, ass clenching hard around Charles, his mind alight with «Yes yes yes-- yours I'm yours I'm _yours_ \--»_ _

__Burying his face against Erik's nape, Charles thrusts even as Erik's body wrings around him and Erik's orgasm echoes to him, bringing him off in a shocking, brilliant riot of sensation that takes his breath away. Finally he lifts his hand from Erik's hip to rest over his joining spot, thinking, with complete satisfaction, «Mine.»_ _

__It's hard to say how much time goes by with the two of them locked together that way; Charles certainly isn't keeping track. But he does notice when one of Erik's hands slips slightly down from its place on the wall, and the chain from his broken handcuff rattles loosely against the inside of Erik's wrist._ _

__He laughs softly and reaches up, touching the dangling end of the chain. «Did you snap the cuffs?» he asks, nuzzling Erik's shoulder._ _

__Erik only just manages to blink his eyes open, gaze following Charles's up to his wrist. «Oh...» The chain pulls itself tight, the cuff moving up against Erik's wrist. «I... yes...» Charles can see Erik's cheek curve as he smiles. «I did that.»_ _

__«Stronger and stronger. We'll have to be careful with that, as you get more of your ability back.» Reluctantly, Charles grips himself and pulls out, breathing deep through the mild discomfort. A few more tissues to clean up, and he's looking at Erik, still leaning against the wall, arse still gorgeous and pink from Charles's hands. Hands which, Charles realizes now, may be a bit sore for a while. He can't think of a better reason for them to be that way, though; he doesn't even try to resist reaching out to caress Erik's cheeks. «You're still nicely pink. How do you feel?»_ _

__Charles pays close attention to Erik's mindset, reading his thoughts and moods more deeply than usual as Erik focuses past the afterglow to answer. Erik straightens, stretching his arms, his neck, and as he does, he starts to come out of headspace, no stumbles, no urge to drop to the floor and beg forgiveness. His pleasure at realizing that zings through both of them, putting a smile on Charles's face as well, and when Erik casts a hand down his backside, his long fingers sliding over his reddened cheek, he hisses._ _

__«I feel _sore._ You hit hard!» He turns to Charles with a smug, pleased grin on his face. «Lucky me.»_ _

__«Everything all right, then?»_ _

__"I think so," Erik answers aloud. "I'm here, Charles-- I'm really here." Again, he smiles-- and again, Charles echoes the satisfaction and relief in him, feeling it every bit as strongly. "I'm with you."_ _

__Charles guides Erik to turn around, and wraps his arms around him. He shares his sense of happiness and pride, letting them wash over Erik, grateful when Erik clutches at him all the more tightly. «I love you.»_ _

__The cuffs float gently to the floor as Erik squeezes Charles in return. «I love you.» He lets out a soft laugh. «I'll fix our new cuffs. Later. How are we doing for time?»_ _

__«Within the time limit, but only just,» Charles answers, after a quick check of his watch. «Shall we gather our things and head back to the room?»_ _

__«We're not going to see much of the town this way,» Erik teases, but he's bending his head down to kiss Charles again, all the same._ _

__He has a point. But they have nearly two weeks; there'll be time to see the rest of Mill Point later._ _


	24. Working It Out (4/?)

God, _again?_ It's been three nights; Erik should be over this by now. At least this time he woke up with his face pressed into Charles's armpit-- with his legs tangled in the sheets, he couldn't actually get all the way to the foot of the bed. And there is something good about waking up here, nose buried against Charles's sparse armpit hairs-- he smells nothing like anyone else, he smells _good_ even this early in the morning.

Erik's half-tempted to rub his face against Charles's pit, marking himself thoroughly with Charles's scent, but the worry that he'd only be doing it because he was halfway to Charles's feet makes him stop, climb back up and put his head firmly on the pillow.

«Hm? Oh--» If Charles was still dozing, Erik's frustration has jerked him out of it. Great. He can't even let his dom-- let _Charles_ sleep in peace. 

«Erik, no, it's all right.» Charles blinks his eyes open, looking muzzy and frankly adorable. Erik stops keeping his distance and leans in to kiss the freckles on the bridge of his nose. Charles smiles. «Good morning to you, too.»

«It is now,» Erik says determinedly. He can read the wall clock with his ability, the metal hands pointing at the metal 11 and 7-- five til seven, but morning by some people's standards. He slept a full five and a half hours before trying to shove his way to _his place_ in the bed. It's getting better. Maybe by the end of this trip, he'll be past it.

"Erik," Charles whispers. His voice is a little raspy from sleep, but when he settles his hand on Erik's cheek, his touch is firm. «It's all right. I'll see about changing rooms. I don't want you to dread going to sleep with me.»

"I don't!" Erik says immediately, pulling Charles into his arms and holding him. Charles hugs him back, just as tightly. "I don't, Charles. Not at all." And it's true. Every night, he's been glad to go to sleep with Charles. And every morning, he wakes up hating himself a little more for being so fucking damaged.

«No.» Charles slides his hand up to Erik's joining spot, which comforts Erik, thrills him, gives him permission to let Charles take the lead, all at once. It's a surprise every single time. «I don't want you to wake up feeling this way. We'll get a room with separate beds-- beds we can push together, so we can still sleep close to each other. It'll be fine, darling. We have the rest of our lives to sort this; it doesn't have to happen on this trip.» Before Erik can get out his next objection, Charles sends strongly, «And you are _not_ letting me down. You'll still be the first person I see when I wake, the first mind I sense.»

There's no disguising the satisfaction Erik feels, knowing that-- Charles wakes up sensing _him_ first. No one else is giving that to him.

Charles smiles, his cheek curving against Erik's shoulder. «There. I like that feeling much better.» He pulls back just a little, enough to look Erik in the eyes. "Shall we get up?"

Even though Erik has to yawn before he says it, he says, "Yes." As happy as he is to be in Charles's arms now, a shower would do him a world of good.

\---

Over breakfast, Charles ticks off the things they've done, one by one. "Let's see, we've been to the museum, the used bookstore and coffeeshop-- we'll have to stop back, I'd love to chat more with John about his ability. Apart from that, there are things like an ice skating rink and a bowling alley, and an arcade. Oh, and the Mill, of course." Charles smiles at Erik. "We'll definitely have to see that. But I'm not so sure there's much more to keep us occupied." He wiggles his eyebrows, and the tip of his tongue skirts over his lower lip. "At least, not outside the hotel."

"There are all sorts of things." Erik thumbs through the local paper he picked up before coming in to the dining room-- all right, so there's only one theater in town, and it's too cold to really enjoy the beach, or the parks and scenery. Still, there are a number of restaurants, and dozens of shops they haven't been to. There's even a food truck lot out at the edge of town. Of course, an ad for something else catches Erik's eye, too. "There's a jewelry store downtown, why don't we check that out?"

Charles smiles at him. "A metallokinetic in his native environment? I wouldn't miss it."

Erik smiles right back, reaching across the table to take Charles's hand. "It could be, you know."

Charles's eyebrows tilt up. "Could be what, darling?" he asks, settling his hand in Erik's. He runs his thumb across the chain of Erik's bracelet, and Erik leans forward just a little more, turning his wrist up so Charles can touch the chain there, too.

After another moment, Charles prompts, "Could be...?"

Erik nearly has to shake himself. "My native environment. The jewelry store. If they need a designer or a metalworker..."

The smile fades from Charles's features. "What... you'd see if they want to carry some of your designs? I'm sure they'd do well here, they're beautiful."

"I could, but that's not what I meant." Erik glances around the dining room, casts his free hand out to indicate the street outside the restaurant's picture window. "Come on, you haven't thought about it at all? Staying here?"

"Well-- no," Charles frowns. "It's quite a small town, I wouldn't have imagined wanting to move here."

"A small town that's mostly mutants," Erik argues. "Where else would we be able to make a better life for ourselves?"

"Anywhere there's 24-hour Thai delivery?" Charles jokes, but when Erik sits back, Charles's frown deepens, and he folds his hands together on the table. "I don't mean that I need all the trappings of living in Manhattan, Erik, of course I'd be happy to end up in Pittsburgh as well. There are universities and colleges there, I could find a job--"

"You're missing the point. New York or Pittsburgh, we're islands lost in a sea of humans. Here we're the bedrock. Don't you want to be a part of that?"

Charles meets Erik's gaze quietly for a while, but eventually sighs and leans back. "Well, you never know. It'll be good to see more of the town while we're here, anyway. When does the jeweler's open?"

\---

The jewelry store is nice-- smaller than Erik's used to, he has to admit, but he could easily see living here, working at the store. Maybe even owning one, someday, something that showcases original design.

There are dozens of circle-M pins, and Erik buys one, affixing it to his own jacket. When he uses his power to do that while his hands are busy signing the receipt, the shop owner grins nearly as broadly as Charles does.

A few more shops, and it's time for lunch. It isn't difficult to talk Charles into heading for the food truck lot, and it's not that long a walk, though the tips of Erik's ears and Charles's cheeks and nose are reddened by the time they get there.

"Oh, there's a taco truck! I'm for that, what are you going to have?"

"Pierogis," Erik answers immediately. "Meet you over at the tables when we've got our food?"

"Absolutely. And if you can find one near an outdoor heater..."

"Of course," Erik says, kissing the pink tip of Charles's nose before heading off.

He manages to take up a choice spot by the huge outdoor heater, and it's definitely working well enough to stave off the chill. Even so, he tilts the reflector dish just a touch with his power, so the heat will reflect directly onto Charles's seat, and when Charles slides into the seat with his paper dish of tacos in hand, he turns his face up toward the heater, humming happily. Erik smiles; wherever they end up, he couldn't be luckier.

"Here we are-- pork tacos al pastor with guacamole and pico de gallo, and loads of cilantro," Charles says, grinning. "Care for a bite?"

Erik shakes his head. "Not a fan of cilantro," he says. "Want a bite of my pierogis? I've got sauerkraut, potato and cheese, and cheese and onion."

"Not a fan of sauerkraut. I'll pass, thanks. Looks like we both ended up with just what we wanted."

As they're leaving, Erik makes sure to tilt the reflector dish back into place, and Charles whisks their paper dishes away, coming back with a pleased smile on his face. "There's a composting bin for the paper and a recycling bin for the plastic!"

"I'm not surprised," Erik says, wrapping his arm around Charles's waist. Charles tucks happily into his side, and Erik hugs him tightly. "You said you wanted to stop by the bookshop again; still interested?"

"Absolutely. I'd love a cup of tea, as well. It's brisk out here, isn't it?"

"Downright nippy," Erik says, bending down to kiss Charles's nose again. Charles reaches up, catches Erik's shoulder, and pulls him down for a _real_ kiss, and suddenly Erik's in no hurry to go anywhere at all.

\---

John's standing at the counter, a cup of tea and a cup of coffee already set out, but when he sees Charles, he grimaces. "Uh-oh."

Charles blinks. "Uh-oh?" he repeats. "What's the matter?"

"You had the tacos. I had about a fifty-fifty chance on you deciding to go for pierogis with Erik."

Erik comes over, too, taking the coffee mug and warming his hands on the ceramic. "The pierogis were good. Something the matter with the tacos?"

"You'll find out," John says cryptically, but he adds, "It's nothing serious, though. You don't need to go to Urgent Care. Hey, listen, I know you guys are looking for a different hotel room--"

Charles lifts an eyebrow. "Your precognition is getting rather detailed when it comes to us."

John chuckles. "This time it's not the strands," he admits. "I brought some muffins to Lashondra at the hotel today, and she was trying to juggle hotel rooms. They're filling up, with the conference starting soon. I think I have a solution for you guys, if you want it."

He reaches under the counter and pulls out a set of keys-- house keys, it looks like-- and a note card with an address written on it.

"It's a beach cabin. A friend of mine owns it, Gary Fields. It's between renters right now, so you could spend the rest of your trip here. And it's further out of town. You won't need to worry about shielding so much," that last addressed to Charles. Charles's eyebrow goes up even further, somehow.

"I'm doing fine. Though apparently, not for long."

"There's a pop-up trundle in one of the bedrooms," John says. "You can push it together with the main bed for a little extra space."

Or keep them apart a few inches, and circumvent the difficulties Erik's been having. Erik turns to Charles, his hand at the small of Charles's back. «Maybe we should take him up on it. Besides, it sounds like you may be having some digestive problems in the near future...»

Charles's mouth twists. "I take it the cabin has more than one bathroom?"

"Two, yeah."

"It's a generous offer..." Charles nods. "I suppose we'll take it. Thank you."

\---

Not two hours after they've moved from the hotel to the cabin, Charles frowns, clutches his stomach, and bolts for the bathroom.

"Are you all right?" Erik calls.

The noises imply not. Charles comes back a few minutes later, tight-lipped and sallow.

Erik smooths his hair back. "Is that the worst of it, do you think?"

"I certainly hope so."

But it isn't; it's soon clear that Charles has a nasty case of food poisoning. He waves off Erik's offers of help getting from the living room to the bathroom, but when Erik brings him water, he does his best to drink it.

"Can you believe... he's got precognition, and I'm not the only one who had those tacos, and he didn't go down to warn the proprietors? What is he _thinking_ \-- oh, God," Charles moans, stumbling down the hall again.

When he gets back this time, Erik has a pillow and a blanket waiting for him on the sofa, and Charles crawls in. He's long since lost his button-down shirt and trousers, wearing only his undershirt and boxers.

"You should phone him," Charles mumbles. "Make him tell the food truck, warn people."

"His mutation, his decision. But I'll ask him. And try to find out how long you're going to be sick." Erik reaches out and feels Charles's forehead; his temperature isn't too elevated. "I'll call him in a little while. Maybe you could get some sleep."

"Maybe," Charles agrees, pulling the covers all the way up to his chin. "Worth a try."

\---

Charles may claim he doesn't buy into traditional roles, but in at least one way he fits the dominant stereotype completely: he's cranky and childish when he's sick.

It's not obvious at first. Erik finds bottled water already in stock in the cabin and sticks some in the freezer while Charles dozes, and feels gratified when Charles wakes up and Erik can give him chilled water. That turns to worry when after a few swallows, Charles dashes for the bathroom again.

"Maybe we should take you to the hospital after all."

"John said it's not serious. I probably just drank too quickly. Or maybe it's too cold. Do we have any at room temperature?"

So much for feeling like a well-prepared sub. Erik at least manages to sit Charles down again and get more water for him, and after keeping down a few swallows of warmer water, Charles presses the chilled water bottle to his forehead and sighs with quiet relief. 

It's ridiculous how much better Erik feels at that, but he's not used to taking care of anyone but himself and now it's his role to serve Charles's needs-- he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stop that line of thought. He's not going to let this turn into another referendum on how he sucks as a sub. 

Anyway, it can't be that hard. He's taken care of Jason through a few colds and flus. Though Jason just gets bossier and more demanding when he's sick, so it was never that tough; Erik just called him an asshole and did what he said.

Not an option with Charles, he finds out quickly, because Charles says, "I'm all set here for the duration, darling. Why don't you take the car back into town and do some more exploring?"

"I'm not going out while you're sick. What if you need something?"

"I have everything I need. And we have a reliable prediction of the future telling us I'll be fine, so you don't have to hang about. I'm not likely to be good company. I'll probably just sleep."

"So sleep," Erik tells him. "I have a stack of books, remember?"

"You didn't come all this way to hole up in a cabin and read, surely."

"I came to be with you."

"Which you can't do while I'm sleeping, so you may as well go out and salvage a bit of your holiday."

"Do you _want_ me to leave?" Erik demands.

"Of course not, but don't you think you'd have a better time in town than stuck here?"

"No, I think I'd worry too much to enjoy it."

"But you needn't--"

"But I _would._ You asked how I'd feel, I'm telling you, that's how. Why'd you ask if you don't want to know?" Erik crosses his arms. "I don't want to go, and I want you to quit asking."

"All right!" Charles tosses his hands up and shoulders the blanket higher. "I'm only trying to be considerate."

"Try considering what I actually said."

They both stew in silence for a few minutes, and then Charles makes an exasperated noise, throwing his blanket back and struggling to get up again. Erik hesitates for half a second, then he's up and helping, putting an arm around Charles's waist and guiding him to his feet.

"I'm not _that_ badly off," Charles grumbles. But he sways a bit when Erik lets him go, and Erik has to watch him weave his way back to the bathroom. Maybe there's a way to compromise on this, since it sounds like Charles wants him out of the cabin for a little while. As soon as Charles is back, Erik asks if there's anything he could go out for.

"Anything you want," he says, burrowing under the blankets again. "I told you--"

"Why don't I get something to help with rehydration? Gatorade," Erik tries.

Charles's moan sounds vaguely affirmative. Erik reaches over and presses gently on a knee-shaped lump under the blanket.

"What kind of Gatorade should I pick up?" Erik asks.

Charles husks from half under a pillow, "I don't know. Any. Purple."

Naturally, when Erik returns with purple Gatorade-- two kinds, no less, since for some reason they make two varieties of grape-- Charles squints at it and pulls a face.

"I was thinking of Vitamin Water," he says mournfully, and tries a sip. "Ugh, that's dreadful."

"Vitamin Water? You're sure this time?" Erik asks, shouldering back into his coat.

"You don't have to go out again, it doesn't matter. It's not as if any of it tastes good," Charles says peevishly.

"So? I can find you something less bad. Since the way it's going, you're probably going to be tasting it twice."

Charles smothers another groan under the pillow.

Erik returns the unopened Gatorade to the store and asks the clerk's advice, and returns to the cabin with purple Vitamin Water, ("That kind's perfect for hangovers," the clerk mentions, which makes him wonder,) plus flavorless Smartwater, coconut water, and a handful of powdered sports drink mixes. She also recommended kombucha, claiming it had natural antibiotics, but one sniff of that has Charles running for the bathroom. 

Erik drinks that one himself.

He'd be more worried, but with John's precognitive assurance that it'll come and go without any lasting harm, he just focuses on trying to keep Charles as comfortable as possible to get him through it.

Charles doesn't make it easy. After their argument about it, he doesn't urge Erik to go out without him again, but on the second day he tries to get dressed and plan for a day out together.

"You still look a little rough," Erik notes. "Washed out."

"How can you tell? It's not as if I could get any pastier," Charles jokes, but he can't keep down a piece of dry toast at breakfast, or apple slices when he tries again later. Erik's getting waves of sympathy nausea every time he jolts off to the bathroom.

Finally he says, "It's not like this is our only chance to spend time here. Even if we never live here, I want to come back."

"Then we'll come back," Charles answers readily.

"So it doesn't matter if we spend a few days relaxing here instead of exploring," Erik says, "and you said yourself there's not all that much to do anyway." Finally Charles relents and climbs back into his PJs-- Erik's amazed he even thought to bring any, Erik certainly didn't-- and goes back to bed.

The gas fireplace makes the bedroom cozy in the chilly afternoon, and Erik curls up in bed alongside Charles and reads a couple of the books from the stack John sold him, skipping the racy parts for the time being.

"I can't believe I'm still ill," Charles mutters, putting his Kindle aside after several failed attempts to nap or read. "I realize I subjected my body to foreign contaminants, but I cannot possibly have a single germ or particle left in my system at this point. It's like an allergy... the body's overreaction is worse than the harm the contaminant itself would do."

"Do you have allergies?"

"No. Raven's allergic to animals. Our stepfather kept dogs, and with the size of the house you'd think it wouldn't be a problem, but she was miserable. All over a bit of animal dander." Charles shakes his head and snorts, "Intelligent design."

"More mutantphobic garbage," Erik says.

"Fact-phobic," Charles mumbles. "Reality-phobic. Oh, bloody hell," and he disappears into the bathroom again.

«Put some music on, would you?» he eventually requests. «If I have to camp out here, there can at least be a soundtrack.»

The cabin has a satellite radio, which only makes sense, this far out from anything. Twiddling with the buttons, Erik rests on the first instrumental station he finds.

«Veto,» Charles sends.

«Not a fan of Celtic reels?»

«Rather not. Did you ever come across any of those fairy tales where someone's punished for eir wicked ways with red-hot iron shoes and forced to dance themselves to death?»

«Of course,» Erik responds. «I was disappointed when my mother broke it to me that iron shoes aren't a thing.»

«Well, you could make them a thing if you like.»

«I'm over it. Anyway, what about it?»

«Oh, I was only going to say, whenever someone's forced to dance themselves to death, I imagine they have to dance to music like that, that bland clattering Lord of the Dance shite. --You're laughing at me.»

«I'm not. It's just a funny thought.» Still channel-surfing, he lights on a jazz station.

«Stop there, would you? That's perfect, darling, thank you.»

Eventually Charles reappears with minty teeth and red eyes, his face damp, his dark hair disarrayed and much wavier than usual, almost curly. «Never again,» Charles sulks, sliding under the covers and burying his face against Erik's side. «I'm never eating again unless the food's been completely incinerated. Except charred food contains carcinogenic HCAs. Everything's out to get us. It's a bloody good thing we've evolved to be so brilliant.»

«Good thing,» Erik agrees, combing through Charles's hair. Charles's shielding seems to be suffering-- Erik's trying not to get his hopes up that it's the bond coming back, but whatever's causing it, he can get a hint of Charles's emotions, a weird mix of comfort and pleasure and chagrin. Eventually it's all comfort, and Charles drops off to sleep.

Alone with his thoughts, Erik reflects that for the first time, he can really imagine what it would be like to live together. The good and the bad, the ups and downs. It's good to see Charles when he isn't on his best behavior-- the shine of their reunion is going to wear off for both of them eventually, and sooner or later Charles will want more from Erik than he's asked for so far. But if Erik can care for him through this, surely that's proof enough that he's willing to do what it takes to make Charles happy.

He thinks about the separate beds they'll sleep in once Charles is feeling better and sighs to himself. His willingness was never in question. Ready and able, though... those are different matters, and if they won't be staying here in Mill Point after the conference, he has a sinking feeling he's going to need more time.

\---

Though for a while it seems he'll be ill for all eternity, at last Charles wakes and discovers he can keep down dry toast, a bit of banana, and some chicken broth late in the afternoon. He even sits up, sort of... more like he leans against Erik, but that's so much more comfortable than anything he's felt in days that it's like his own little bit of heaven, right here on a borrowed sofa.

Charles wasn't sure how physical they'd be outside the bedroom, now that they're well out of seeker rush. Erik didn't exactly strike him as the cuddly sort, a little riff of surprise running through his emotions sometimes when Charles snuggled up to him. It's a pleasant surprise that Erik seems to like to curl close now, to rest a hand on him or play with his hair, hold him or be held. Though possibly these are humor-the-sick-person gestures.

It's so early in their newly rekindled relationship for something like this to happen. They've only had a few days together, really, and those mostly spent in a sea of endorphins. Charles had looked forward to this trip as a chance to try out their chemistry without the boost from their rush-- and that had definitely gone well, before he fell ill.

But he'd also hoped to shore up their foundations a bit, to take Erik out on proper dates and have conversations and court him, after a fashion. He'd wanted to show Erik how good it could be if they lived together full time. 

Instead, one undercooked taco later, he's given Erik a preview of the most grinding and unpleasant aspects of cohabitation. This sort of thing wasn't meant to happen til a few months into the relationship, when there would be a cushion of affection built up from dating and lovemaking and doing things together. Charles knows he's horrid when he's sick, Raven's told him so often enough. And the margin of error with Erik is so narrow. Charles is already on probation. Erik doesn't even trust him to visit Pittsburgh yet.

When he and Erik resumed their bond, Charles already carried more debt than he could ever repay, but even beyond that, he feels he's overdrawn on the bank of Erik's affections. Erik already knows he can live without Charles, and so far, most of this trip has just given Erik reasons to prefer it.

Still and all, Erik's here, and aside from his stubbornness kicking in when Charles tried to convince him to go out and enjoy his holiday, he hasn't seemed too annoyed or unhappy. Charles reluctantly draws himself out of Erik's arms to fetch his own Vitamin Water and saltines... and this time, Erik lets him do it, waiting for him to get back and wrapping an arm around Charles again once he sits down.

It's absurd that such a little thing should feel like such an accomplishment, but as Charles eats the saltines and drinks the vividly purple "wellness" drink, he does feel fairly satisfied. Now that Erik isn't going to have to wait on him hand and foot, maybe they can get back to getting to know each other in person again.

Erik turns his head and kisses Charles's cheek, and Charles can feel him smiling, as well as the bright shining pleasure that glows through their bond and through Erik's emotional sphere. It's even more clear than usual today, which Charles suspects is due to the remote location. With acres and acres of space between them and their nearest neighbor, Charles's shields don't have to be nearly as tight as they do in a small town like Mill Point, and he can focus almost entirely on Erik, who feels so much a part of him that his presence improves things every time they're together.

"You're doing better today," Erik murmurs. "I think it's catching."

Charles whips his head around, alarmed, but Erik quickly shakes his head.

"No, I meant how you're feeling-- your emotions, not your food poisoning."

"Thank goodness," Charles says, settling in against Erik's side again. "The last thing I want is to give you a case of norovirus."

"You haven't, don't worry." Erik reaches up with the arm Charles isn't leaning on, gently stroking Charles's hair. "If you're doing better tomorrow, I might have to surprise you with something."

"Oh?" Charles tries to inject that with a hint of flirtation, though he's not sure how well it comes off after the last few days. "You're certainly welcome to."

Erik pauses. "I wasn't getting into specifics because I was thinking I could cook something. But you sound like you mean something else entirely..."

"Mmmm." Charles snuggles back against him. "I did, yes."

Erik nudges him, very softly. "You want me to surprise you?"

"Well, not until I'm really at a hundred percent." Charles sighs. "I can't believe it. We had two weeks and I've spent so much of them being sick..."

"As if we're not going to get sick when we're living together."

Charles has to turn at that, wrapping his arms around Erik's waist. He hugs Erik as tightly as he can, and Erik responds with a careful hug of his own.

«What was that for?» Erik asks. Even his thoughts seem clearer, out here; Charles can almost see the appeal of living in a place like this, so far away from other minds. Almost, if he weren't likely to go out of his mind from boredom.

«For making it a 'when', even after I've ruined half this trip,» Charles sends, nestling his head against Erik's shoulder.

«You haven't ruined anything.» Erik rubs his cheek against Charles's hair. «Charles, I mean it. I love you. I'm glad to be with you, no matter what.»

The sincerity in Erik's thoughts makes Charles's throat tighten. Fortunately, he wasn't going to speak any more for a while anyway, and instead he simply holds onto Erik, letting Erik hold him in return. Erik's seen him at his worst, and still wants to be with him. Now, if they're both lucky, Charles will never have to look this bad in front of his soulmate again.

\---

It's still another day or so before Charles is fully himself again, but once he's eating, the two of them move into the second bedroom-- the one with the twin bed and pop-up trundle that can be pushed together to form a king. Erik notes the metal frame on the trundle with satisfaction, using his power to roll it back and forth. "It won't even squeak when we move it," he declares. "We can experiment... see how far I really need to be in order to keep myself from crawling down to your feet."

"After this week, I should be at yours," Charles teases. Erik sucks in a breath-- the image comes to him before he can shake it off, and it's not the turn-off he'd expected it to be. "Really, darling. I owe you days and days of tending."

"You don't," Erik manages to say.

"Or at the very least, a massage," Charles says. "I took classes, you know, in those days when I was apprenticing. I may not have found submission very compelling, but there's no reason a dominant can't give his partner a massage now and then, just for the pleasure of it." He even wiggles his eyebrows at Erik-- he _is_ feeling better. "And let me assure you, I'd certainly enjoy spending an hour with my hands all over you."

"I can't argue with that," Erik says. He wraps his arms carefully around Charles and kisses him, and Charles kisses back, and it's good to feel his enthusiasm even if he isn't ready to throw Erik down on one of the mattresses just yet.

With Charles on the mend, they explore the cabin a bit more fully. There's a television, with rabbit-ears antenna no less, but even with Erik's ability, they can't seem to make any of the channels come in. Erik's only sorry about that because he's curious what sort of public access programming they have here, and what the local news station looks like.

"Mutant interest stories instead of human interest stories?" he jokes to Charles.

"I imagine it's the same sort of story regardless. A girl's cat getting stuck up a tree, the man who owns a donut shop retiring after twenty-seven years... it's all of interest to humans as well as mutants, there's no need to differentiate."

"Then why bother to call it _human_ interest?" Erik challenges. "If it were really meant for baselines and mutants alike, it could be 'universal interest' or something along those lines. But even their everyday language is an attempt to separate and alienate us."

Charles doesn't answer that. Instead, he's turned to the sideboard in the dining room. "Look at this," he says. "Board games by the dozen."

"Any sign of a chessboard?"

"Yes, but from the box, it appears to be glass-- clear for one side, frosted for the other. Something tells me you'd rather use our magnetic travel sets."

"Glass would do if there were nothing else available. What other games are there?"

"Hmm... Scrabble, Clue, Monopoly, Sorry. Something called Scotland Yard..."

"Jason always liked that one. If you're the villain, you have to keep track of your moves, write them down, because people are trying to hunt you-- you can't have a piece on the board. But of course Jason just projected a piece none of us could see."

"Clever," Charles chuckles. "There's also a deck of cards and a cribbage set, dominoes, and... I'm not sure what this is." He pulls out a well-worn box and puts it on the dining room table. "'School For The Gifted'," he says. "Erik, have a look."

Erik comes over and looks at the box. There are no photographs on it, only a plain, printed title, and when they open it up, it looks a bit like Monopoly-- a track around the outside, with some squares serving as the beginning and end of small tracks on the inside as well. They seem to be courses of study-- physics, biology, literature, mathematics, education-- but when Erik starts reading the squares, he realizes how very different this is from a mainstream board game. "Charles, these squares reference _mutants_."

"You choose a mutation--" Charles is sifting through the cards in the box as well as the pieces. "Oh, how interesting-- psionic, telekinetic, enhanced senses, enhanced speed... there are dozens, and all of them offer an advantage in gameplay." He hands over the 'enhanced speed' card, which allows a player to move their piece an extra two spaces per turn, if desired. "Where did this come from? I can't believe I've never heard of it."

Erik takes the game manual in hand and pages through it. Near the bottom, he sees a name and P.O. Box listed for the game designer. "Do you remember who John said this cabin belonged to?"

Charles pauses for a few seconds, eyes closing, then opens them with a nod. "Gary Fields."

"Apparently he designed games in his spare time. I wonder how we could get copies of this. Or if there are others."

A quick inventory of the rest of the games on the sideboard doesn't reveal any others. That's fine, though; Erik and Charles set up School For The Gifted and play through it, laughing at some of the events, cheering for both of their game pieces when they graduate from their courses of study and eventually achieve their life goals. It's not a perfect game, but it's entertaining enough. "Helix needs a copy," Erik declares. " _Everyone_ needs a copy. This should be on game store shelves along with Trivial Pursuit."

"Absolutely," Charles agrees. "Maybe we can meet up with Mr. Fields and see if he needs a sponsor in order to sell his games to a wider audience."

That goes onto the list of things to do when Charles is at his best again, but as their first week draws to a close, Erik's cell phone starts buzzing. His friends are arriving in Mill Point for the MFMR conference, and invitations start to come in along with the text messages.

"Would you be up for dinner out tonight?" Erik asks. "I've got three friends who are here now, I'd like to introduce you."

Charles beams at him. "I think I could manage it. Though if you could steer them away from the food trucks..."

"No food trucks, no Mexican food, I promise," Erik says. Negotiations over text are quick, and he arranges to meet Misty, Brian, and Marvin at a bar and grill just inside town. As the plans are set, Erik feels anticipation building up-- he met some of Charles's friends at Jason's wedding, and Charles got to meet the Wyngardes, but it's time to start getting to know some of the people in their day-to-day lives. Somehow the idea of Charles meeting everyday friends like Brian, and even acquaintances like Misty and Marvin, makes everything seem all the more serious between the two of them. Once they've chosen a place to live, they'll meet most of the people in each others' lives, down to the people at their usual coffee shops and delis. And even if-- realistically, _when_ \-- Erik moves to Manhattan, surely he'll manage to get back to Pittsburgh now and then.

Charles takes long enough in front of the mirror to make Erik equal parts exasperated and amused. "How much more perfect does your hair need to get?"

That gets a raised eyebrow, Charles's eyes meeting Erik's in the mirror. "Easy for you to say."

Erik immediately sweeps a hand over his hair. "I could let it grow out," he says. "If that's something you'd like.."

"That wasn't meant to be criticism!" Charles turns around and tugs Erik close, which puts Charles's thighs against the counter and Erik's thighs right up against Charles's. "I just meant you already look good, how could you not..."

"So we're both proud of each other," Erik says. He has no idea where to put his hands-- not on the counter, pinning Charles in, and not on Charles's ass, where he's so tempted to grab and squeeze-- behind his back, that should be safe enough. Charles strokes his hands down Erik's arms, and when he gets to Erik's wrists, his fingers trace over Erik's bracelet. Erik can feel the warmth from Charles's fingertips, and just like that, he's settled again, vibrating Charles's windcatcher in return. He even lowers his head, his eyes tipping down as well.

«I'm glad,» Charles sends. Erik can feel traces of Charles's pleasure and a strong sense of reassurance, mind-to-mind. «I am, Erik, truly. Very proud of you.» His hand closes over Erik's bracelet. «Proud you're mine.»

Not for the first time, Erik's thrilled by the feel of that metal on his wrist. It's better than anything he's ever had before, even his windcatcher. The windcatcher was something he made, and he's proud of it, but this bracelet is something Charles put on him, something that Charles wants everyone to see, to show the world that Erik's _his_.

«I'm proud to be yours,» Erik sends back. «But if you keep doing that...» Erik turns his wrist gently in Charles's hand; Charles doesn't let go, only keeps stroking the gold chain of the bracelet with his thumb. «If you keep doing that, we'll be late.»

Charles bites his lower lip, catching a grin between his teeth, and strokes the tip of his thumb over Erik's bracelet, even more deliberately this time. «Do you think they'll forgive us?»

Tempted as Erik is to slide to his knees, he's learned enough about staying out of headspace this trip that he doesn't just sink. "Come on," he growls softly, leaning in, licking over the bitten spot on Charles's lower lip. Charles's lips never seem to get any less red and vivid, and no wonder, with the amount of time Charles spends licking and biting them. Erik daydreams about Charles's mouth all the time, and he knows that after this trip he'll be doing it even more.

He's trying not to think about that, though-- what he'll do when they're apart, what they'll both do when these two weeks are up and they have to go back to their separate lives. They need to make plans to see each other again. Erik's very, very tempted to tell Charles that yes, it's all right, he can come out to Pittsburgh every weekend. Erik could make space for Charles in his apartment. 

He could make space for Charles in his life, it would be so easy... right, as if Charles would be likely to choose Pittsburgh over New York. Chances are, either they'll both move somewhere new, and if it's not Mill Point, Erik can't imagine where that would be. Or Erik will have to move to Manhattan.

Being close to Charles like this, touching him, he can't imagine wanting anything more than he wants this. But he'll miss his life in Pittsburgh.

They manage to make it out of the bathroom, but when Charles perches on the bed to put his shoes on, biting his lip yet again, Erik has to bend and kiss him, and before he knows it, they're rolling onto the bed.

Charles's mouth opens under Erik's, and he pulls Erik close, guiding Erik on top of him. Erik goes willingly, kissing Charles back, moaning as Charles squeezes Erik's hips with his thighs. Too much, he wants this far too much, and he eases back, holding himself suspended over Charles and looking at Charles's lips again. This time, the color on them is because of Erik. Because Erik kissed him that much. Because Erik's mouth left Charles's lips swollen.

"Weren't we going somewhere?" Charles teases, stretching beneath Erik. He lifts his arms above his head and presses his hands against the bedrails, sighing as he stretches fully. Erik shakes his head to clear it, and scrambles off the bed-- they're never going to be able to meet his friends if this keeps up.

"Restaurant," Erik says thickly. "Come on."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Charles says, cheeky grin on his face. "If not exactly in the sense I'd prefer, unless we're inspired to take over the men's."

"Don't tempt me," Erik groans, looking for his jacket and drawing it over by the zippers. That stops Charles in his tracks-- Charles beams at him, and smiles even more as Erik slips his arms into the jacket and uses his ability to zip it closed.

He has to help Charles on with his coat the old-fashioned way, but Charles fingers the buttons once they're fastened. "I wonder what you could do if I replaced the buttons with metal ones," he muses.

"Depends on whether you had the buttonholes reinforced with metallic thread, too."

Charles's eyes light up. "I'm doing that. When I'm back in the city, I'm having all my buttons replaced."

Erik only laughs. "Your buttons are fine," he promises. He gets the door, and lets Charles lead the way out the front door.


	25. Working It Out (5/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last update we have in the can, as it were! It's possible we'll still have one for 3/24, but after that we're not sure. Thanks for coming back to this with us; we're so glad to have had more to share with you!

They reach the restaurant only to find Misty, Brian, and Marvin standing outside, hands dug into pockets, breath frosty in the chilly January air. "Sorry we're late," Erik says, waving. "No room at the bar?"

"There was, but there's a basketball game on," Brian says. "It's the Nuggets versus the Spurs."

"Ah," Charles says. Erik glances over at him, both eyebrows raised. Charles gives him a rueful look. "Well, I'm afraid I'm not very knowledgeable about American team sports, but even I know the NBA's first mutant player is on the Spurs this year. I imagine that means it's loud in there."

"The NBA's first _out_ mutant player," Brian corrects.

"Matthias Johnstone," Misty clasps her hands theatrically in a mock swoon. "He's got naturally blue hair and his tongue is forked."

Charles grins and shakes his head. "Much as it pains me to say it... go, Spurs."

"Pains you?" Erik asks.

"The Spurs. The Tottenham Hotspurs," Charles explains. "They're a football club in the U.K.-- arch-rivals to Arsenal."

"You're an Arsenal fan?" Marvin laughs. "So am I."

"I don't really follow any sports closely," Charles admits. "But I suppose it's Arsenal over everyone else."

"Good enough for me." Marvin offers Charles a hand. "I'm sorry, we're being rude-- I'm Marvin."

"Charles." Charles says, smiling. "Erik's soulmate." He exchanges handshakes with Misty and Brian, who introduce themselves in turn. Erik doesn't think he's imagining the way their eyes scoop down to clock Charles's wallet chain. To him, it couldn't be more obvious that Charles is thoroughly dominant, but it seems like other people aren't always so sure.

"I'm so happy for you guys," Misty says, reaching over and squeezing Erik's shoulder. "You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard you actually have a soulmate!"

«I'm not as close to Misty or Marvin as I am to Brian,» Erik explains quickly, and Charles squeezes Erik's hand as Erik answers her aloud. "We were apart for a long time, but we're making up for it now. We took two weeks' vacation just to spend time in Mill Point together."

"And then what?" Brian weighs Charles with a look, one that makes Erik step a little closer to Charles out of instinct. Brian's a good guy, but he's definitely an alpha dom type who's used to being in charge and tends to let people know it. So far Charles has been relatively easygoing, but Erik can't imagine that he'd back down from a challenge. He really doesn't want the two of them getting into any sort of argument to prove dominance. At least they're both the sort to use words instead of fists, or displays with their mutations. "Are you moving to Pittsburgh?"

Charles looks up at Erik for a moment, his expression growing sober. "We're still working that out," he says. "It's early days yet."

"Well, I hope it's Pittsburgh, because we really need Erik there," Brian says bluntly. "Between Helix and MFMR, we can use every mentor we can get, and Erik's one of the best."

"Yes, of course he is-- excuse me," Charles says, turning fully to face Brian now, "maybe this would be a good time to say-- Erik may have mentioned this already, but I'm a telepath." Marvin nods at that; well, Erik supposes he would remember. "It's easier for me if I have permission to use my ability to suss out social cues," Charles goes on. "Typically I'm only taking in immediate moods, the kind of thing other people can probably gather from facial expressions and body language. But if anyone's not comfortable with that, I can selectively block em out."

"You don't have to say that here." Erik frowns, stepping closer to Charles. "None of my friends are going to ask you not to use your mutation."

"Excuse me, I am," says Misty. Erik stares at her. His eyes narrow, and she glares right back at him. "Hey, look-- you know I'm always in favor of people being free to use their mutations, but there's a limit to that, and that limit comes when we're infringing on other mutants' rights."

"How is Charles infringing on your rights? It's not as if he's asking to teleport into your home when you're not around, or use a mutation to cheat or steal..."

"No, but those are _my_ emotions," Misty says. "And I'm not comfortable with anyone feeling those along with me... that's something I want to share with my soulmate, and no one else."

"Letting a psionic read emotions in place of body language isn't the same thing as sharing soul-to-soul," Erik begins. Misty ignores him altogether this time, and Erik's fingers curl in and tuck in against his palms. It makes the gold of his bracelet tighten against his wrist, and Erik immediately relaxes his hands; he's not going to do anything to damage that bracelet, not ever. Not even when he's angry, when he's so angry he can hardly speak at all.

Turning to Charles, Misty continues, "I'm really sorry. But you said you could block me out..."

"Of course I can. It's not a problem," Charles assures her.

"It _is_ a problem," Erik interrupts. "You might as well be telling him he can't listen to you when you speak. If he were deaf, you'd let him read your lips."

"My lips are right there, for anyone to see. _Baselines_ can see my lips."

"So you don't mind it if baselines can communicate properly with you, but if it's a mutant..."

"What?! I didn't say anything like that!"

"You might as well have. Psionics are mutants just like the rest of us, and what they sense is just as real and important to them as voice or sight are to those of us who have _those_ gifts. Where the hell is this coming from? You know plenty of psionics. You're friends with Marvin, you don't mind if he's nearby--"

"Whoa, hang on," Marvin begins.

But Misty's already talking over him. "Marvin _can't_ read my emotions, remember?" she asks. "But if he could, I'd have asked him to do me the same courtesy."

"There's nothing wrong with Marvin, either," Erik seethes.

"I'm on Psychitrex," Marvin says-- but he's directing that to Charles. It seems like Charles's jaw tightens, and why wouldn't it? If even a fellow telepath won't take his side, who will? "And we talked about this before. My mutation was really hurting me-- I could barely leave the house. You shouldn't use me as an example of harmless psionic abilities."

"I wasn't trying to do that," Erik shoots back. "But don't you think it's a little bit of a double-standard to say that some psionics are all right, and others need to have their mutations on a leash? None of you ever had a problem with Jason; he's a psionic."

"Yeah, well, not everyone has your fetish for psionics," Misty snaps.

Erik's trying not to think about the emotions he must be sending through the bond. At least Charles is right here, not having to wonder why Erik's so angry. "It's not a _fetish_ , Misty. My mutation is psionic, or had that never occurred to you?"

"Oh, come off it. It's not the same as being able to read minds."

"I can sense every atom of metal in a fifty-yard radius," Erik insists. "That's not violating anyone's privacy?"

"It's _metal_ , not emotions--"

"Considering where some of that metal is, I'm sure people would be happier if I agreed to limit what I'm sensing to things that aren't on people. But it's not up to them, and I'm not going to act as though it is. My mutation isn't for other people to control, it's _mine_."

"Well, maybe you should let your dom give you some lessons in respecting other people's privacy, then," Misty snaps, and this time Erik does step back, whirling on his heel and stalking away. Charles hurries to keep up with Erik, reaching out and settling a hand on Erik's shoulder as they go.

«Those last remarks were completely out of line,» Charles sends, a protective anger shading the thought. «But... she's well within her rights to guard her privacy. I'm sorry about the conflict.»

«I'm not sorry, I'm _angry_ ,» Erik sends back. Charles actually winces, but he's quickly catching up to Erik again, keeping pace with him. Erik tries to calm down, to send his thoughts more carefully. The last thing he wants is Charles wincing when Erik sends thoughts to him. He treasures sharing that gift with Charles far too highly to let Charles associate it with anything negative. «No one has the right to tell me what to do with my ability,» he sends this time, more carefully.

That seems to come through a little better. Charles doesn't flinch, at least. «But people should be able to set their own boundaries,» Charles sends back. «And I know you respect them--»

«Of course I do, I'm not feeling up people's piercings just for some kind of voyeuristic thrill,» Erik sends, finally coming to a halt. They're more than a block away from Misty and the others now, out of earshot.

«I encounter people who are uncomfortable with my range every day,» Charles tries. «If I took offense every time something like this happened, I'd spend more time walking away from my friends than seeing them. There's no point in--»

«You call people who reject your mutation your _friends_?» Erik asks, mood darkening yet again.

Charles looks like he's holding back a sigh. This time he's the one sending his thoughts slowly, with care. «Yes, Erik. I have friends who aren't comfortable with my reading anything at all. And friends who allow it sometimes, but not others. Friends who allow me to read moods every time I see them, which I appreciate very much.» He lifts a hand to Erik's cheek, and just like that, Erik's anger starts bleeding away, Charles's touch soothing him despite himself. «But the only person who's ever shared everything with me is you. And you're the only person I want to share with, this way.»

«And that's just it,» Erik sends, looking at Charles. «They should trust that you won't take more than you need in order to function, just as everyone trusts that I won't do anything untoward with their zippers or their piercings. But just because your ability is what it is, no one extends you that trust.»

«You did.» Charles strokes his thumb back and forth against Erik's cheek, and Erik finally closes his eyes. «Can you understand, now, why that means so much to me?»

Erik lets out a long sigh. He's still so damned angry-- at Misty, at the situation, at the painful unfairness of knowing his soulmate has an amazing gift and that so many people, even other mutants, disdain it. But he feels love, too-- so much love for Charles that it almost seems impossible he can feel this way about anyone, anything. And he wants to protect Charles, above everything else. He doesn't want Charles ever knowing another moment's pain or doubt. Not ever again. "I love you," Erik whispers.

"I love you, too." Charles glances back behind Erik, and Erik turns to look, too. Marvin and Brian and Misty are still there, outside the restaurant, trying not to be too obvious about watching Charles and Erik's conversation. "We can go back and join them. I'd like to get to know your friends."

"They're not all my friends. Not anymore," Erik says plainly. He catches Charles's hand in his and presses a kiss to the inside of his palm. "But if you still want to have dinner with them, then let's."

"I would." Charles smiles up at Erik, and lifts up on his toes to kiss Erik's mouth. Erik wraps an arm around him, hugging him tightly, and returns that kiss with interest.

He's cool to Misty for the rest of the evening, but it's a good time, all the same. Charles and Erik wave goodbye to everyone, Erik exchanges hugs with Brian and Marvin, and after the three of them have gone, Erik turns just in time to see a strained look on Charles's face, one that Charles quickly loses.

"Something the matter?"

"No," Charles says, taking Erik's hand and stroking his thumb across Erik's bracelet. "Nothing at all."

\---

 _Nothing at all_ isn't quite accurate, but it ought to be, which is close enough. Once they're back at the beach house, Charles is just-- relieved, grateful, glad-- glad that Marvin's gone, that he has Erik all to himself for the rest of the night.

Out of their coats, snug together on the sofa underneath a blanket, Erik squeezes Charles's hand and says, "What?"

Charles blinks at him. "What?"

" _What_ ," Erik repeats. "Something's wrong, so just tell me. Misty?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No, we got on well enough after all that, she seems nice."

Erik's anger flashes fierce and fast, but thankfully, he doesn't get into it. "Then _what?_ "

"Erik, I promise, there is absolutely nothing wrong," Charles says patiently. Nevertheless, Erik crosses his arms over his chest and stares Charles down. Charles rolls his eyes, which doesn't count as a loss in the staring contest, so far as he's concerned. "You're kicking up a fuss about nothing."

"You were tense more than once tonight," Erik says. "And now you're being too cheerful. I might not be able to feel it for myself, but I'm starting to notice your tells. Something's bothering you. Tell me."

"It really isn't anything. I'm not tense, I'm not upset with you in any way," Charles says.

"Then you shouldn't have any trouble telling me what's wrong."

That's a juvenile ploy at best, and Charles crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring Erik's body language. "You could at least _try_ taking my word for it," Charles says. "Nothing's wrong. Except this conversation, which I admit is starting to become-- taxing."

"What's taxing for me is feeling as though my soulmate's hiding something from me. Haven't we lost enough time to thinking we know what's best for one another?"

That hits home, and hits hard. Charles immediately comes back with, "I'm not _hiding_ anything..." Although the Psychitrex he's taking hasn't come out of his shaving kit in front of Erik, and he certainly hasn't mentioned it. Erik took it in stride when Marvin mentioned Psychitrex... and with that, Charles exhales, frustrated and exasperated. "It's just that I remembered Marvin was the psionic you'd spent time with at the club, and it was-- awkward, to realize that was him."

"Oh," Erik says, blinking, his defensive posture relaxing. He reaches out with one hand, resting it on Charles's knee. "I thought Misty might have said something more while I was off in the men's room. Or Brian."

Charles shakes his head. "I don't really know how Misty was doing, obviously, apart from what she actually said. And Brian... seemed fine," which is true enough, though Charles read a strong suppressed attraction to Erik and more than a dash of jealousy directed at Charles, neither of which endeared Brian to him. It was strange; Marvin's the one who actually spent ten minutes intimately engaged with Erik, but he's not carrying much of a torch at all. That helped, a bit. Although knowing that Marvin and Erik spent time kissing, and that Marvin's a psionic...

Erik brings him out of his thoughts with a gentle squeeze to his knee. "Marvin," he repeats softly. Charles is getting a twinge of guilt through the bond now-- what's that about? If there's more to that night at the club than Erik told him... "I didn't realize it would bother you to see him. I'm sorry."

"You have a right to your friends," Charles says firmly. "I'd never tell you there was someone you couldn't see, or shouldn't see. No matter what sort of history you have with em."

"That's a relief, because there's no way I'd let you," Erik says. There's a touch of fire in his expression, defensiveness springing up in him. "But I'm still sorry it bothered you, seeing Marvin. The truth is, I haven't thought about that night in months."

"Good," Charles grits out.

One of Erik's eyebrows shoots up; maybe he was right about being able to sense Charles's tells by now. "Did you think..." Finally, he shakes his head. "I can't even guess at what you might be thinking."

Just as well. Charles struggles for something else to say, but Erik takes his hand, instead, and it feels so good to be touched that Charles just lets himself stay silent, threading his fingers through Erik's, holding on.

"It was one night," Erik says quietly. "It was ten minutes. And we didn't share a connection the way you and I do."

"I realize that," Charles murmurs, looking down at their hands. "You shouldn't have to reassure me."

A pulse of discomfort echoes into the bond as Erik asks, "No?"

God, there it is. Erik's uncomfortable with this conversation, with Charles's jealousy of other doms-- but he's here, with Charles, trying. It's not fair to Erik that Charles needs him so much, needs so much _of_ him, it isn't fair at all, but as much as Charles wants to be strong and unaffected and calm about this-- about _his bondmate_ having friendships that could easily have been more if things had gone differently, about doms who have felt Erik's gorgeous yearning to go down as they coaxed pleasure out of him with kisses-- he bites his lip, and he reaches out, pulling Erik into his arms.

Immediately, Erik's tucking in against his shoulder, holding Charles every bit as hard. Charles senses surprise from him, as though he were expecting Charles to want more space between them instead of less, but nothing about Erik's reaction implies that it was wrong of Charles to need him this much, that he doesn't want Charles hanging onto him. Erik reaches up, his palm gentle against Charles's joining spot, the two of them breathing together for a few long moments.

«Charles... it's all right if you want me to reassure you, I don't mind.»

Charles clutches at Erik's shirt, his hands knotting in the fabric. As much as he tries to keep back his jealousy, there's no stopping it from coming through when he shares thoughts with Erik, not right now. «Did you and he talk like this?»

«No!» Erik holds on tighter himself, pulling Charles so close he's almost tugging Charles into his lap. Charles goes with it, climbing onto Erik, pinning Erik's hips between his knees and sitting squarely on him. Erik keeps one hand on Charles's joining spot, the other rubbing circles between Charles's shoulderblades. «No, Charles, I was waiting for you.» He presses more than words through their connection, mind-to-mind and soul-to-soul. Love, commitment-- a feeling that what they have between them is _right_ , a fit unlike anything Erik ever dreamed of finding with anyone else. «I want this from _you_.» Mind-to-mind, Charles can feel what must seem so obvious to Erik, what Charles needed so desperately to hear from him: _you and no one else, I didn't want this with him._

Erik's giving him so much, and Charles should be satisfied with it... but he can't help asking for just a little more. He slides his hand up, over Erik's joining spot, and lets himself take in the thrilled, almost startled pleasure Erik always feels when Charles touches it. «Did he touch you here?»

It's so good to feel the way Erik has to reach back for the thread of this conversation, the way Marvin truly became a background thought once it was _Charles_ who was touching him. Erik rubs Charles's joining spot in circles, nuzzling him, kissing Charles's nose, his cheek. «No. That's _yours_. That's only been you--» Charles knows the one other person who's touched Erik there, and in Erik's mind, that's a dark shadow he can't free himself from entirely-- but he pushes all thoughts of Shaw aside. He looks Charles in the eye and takes strength from their bond, the only true bond either of them has ever known. «That's only been you.»

Part of Charles still wants to flinch away from that look-- as much as it comforts him to know he can give Erik strength this way, it's hard to accept that his own jealousy must be as nakedly obvious to Erik as anything else about him. But they've gotten this far together, and Erik's still holding onto him. Maybe Charles can take it one step further. «It's just us now.»

He kisses Erik again, and this time the kiss quickly grows deeper and rougher and more demanding, his hand firm at soul's-home. Erik opens to it, welcomes it-- and Charles feels a rush of relief flooding through Erik, their bond giving away just how grateful Erik is to hear those words. Erik pulls Charles even closer, pressing Charles down so his weight pins Erik more fully against the sofa. «Just you, _just you_. Just you.»

Charles needs more-- they _both_ need more, now-- and so Charles angles them both, turning them sideways until Erik's head is on the sofa's armrest and Charles lies between his thighs. All that, and he can't stop kissing Erik, not even for a moment. He needs this, they need each other, and once Erik's got Charles's hips between his thighs, Charles reaches back with both hands, cupping Erik's joining spot, caressing it. There's nothing light about that touch now. It's a claim on him, and they both know it. And far from being put off by Charles's jealousy and possessiveness, Erik's offering himself up, opening himself to the kiss, to Charles's body, trying to give just as fiercely as Charles is trying to take from him.

It's clear they're both on the same page when Charles feels his belt buckle moving-- he lifts up slightly, and as soon as there's room, Erik whips the belt off him with his ability. Erik's own belt is open, too, the button on his jeans popped, the zipper yanked down. Erik gets his hands between them, working on Charles's buttons-- Charles is absolutely replacing every button he owns with metal, getting those buttonholes lined with metal thread like Erik suggested. He could pin Erik's hands down and still feel this, Erik's eagerness to touch and be touched, Erik's ability brought to bear on both of them.

For now, he moans into Erik's mouth as Erik shares more thoughts, the same thing, again and again. «Yes. _Mine_. And yours... yours, _just you_.»

«You're mine-- I need to hear that's what you _want_ , tell me--»

Erik finally breaks their kiss so he can reach up and cup Charles's face in both hands, looking into Charles's eyes. «I thought you were going to say you shouldn't need reassurance because you were planning to _share_ me.» Even the idea fills Charles with shock, along with a sense of _no, no, no, mine_ , possessiveness on a level he isn't entirely sure is healthy. But Erik's clutching his shoulders now, and Charles can feel that half the possessiveness he's feeling isn't his at all, it's Erik's. «I don't want anyone else, I just want _you_. I don't want you sharing me.»

It's the easiest promise Charles has ever needed to make. «Absolutely _not_ \-- never--» He catches Erik's wrists in his hands, holding on tight, pushing them back above his head so he can pin Erik down. _Mine. **Mine.**_ «Never.»

«Then it's just us. Just us, Charles. No one else. I don't want anyone but you.» Erik kisses Charles back, warmly, offering himself up-- his body is still strong and powerful under Charles's, but all that power is devoted to giving himself to Charles now. It's beautiful. No one has ever gotten to Charles the way Erik does, no one's submission has touched Charles as deeply. It calls to him, deep at the heart of him, making him kiss Erik harder, every dominant instinct in him crying out to take what Erik is trying to give him.

He moves down, kissing Erik's face, his jawline, and then he's at Erik's neck, sucking and biting at the skin there, leaving deliberate marks. Underneath him, Erik moans, tilting his chin up, giving Charles better access to him. Charles sends just one word-- «Mine.» -- as he keeps biting, putting his claim on Erik well above where any shirt collar would rest, where the marks will be very visible.

Erik meets those bites with enthusiasm, his hips rocking up underneath Charles's, his every emotion drawing Charles in with encouragement and heat. «Yes! Yes, Charles-- don't you know how much I want to show you off, I want everyone to look at me and see how lucky I am, you're mine, you're _mine_.»

«I want everyone to know,» Charles sends back, another mark, he can't hold back, Erik's _asking_ him for it-- for all the things Charles has wanted to give him for so long. «At the wedding, I was so _proud_ , I'm so proud you're with me--» He sucks up one more mark, his tongue playing over Erik's darkening skin, shifting his hands to take Erik's wrists in one so he can drop the other to push Erik's jeans down. «You're only with me.»

Every bit as impatient as Charles, now, Erik lifts up underneath him to help, both of them struggling to keep Erik pinned down but working to get Erik out of his jeans at the same time. With a last determined kick, Erik finally shakes loose of his clothes, bare skin spread out under Charles now, leaving Charles almost lightheaded with need. «I'm proud of you, too, you're so _strong_ ,» Erik sends. Charles catches the meaning behind those words, mind-to-mind-- Erik means Charles's mutation, and past all Charles's hopes and dreams for what his soulmate might think of his telepathy, Erik is just reveling in it, thrilling at the way it feels to have Charles's words ringing through his mind. It amazes Charles that Erik might ever have thought Charles would want someone else, could even begin to think of someone else-- after feeling this much love and acceptance from Erik, there could never be anyone else for him.

But Erik gives him more every moment, kissing Charles again and again, sending out more words. «I love you, I want to be with you, just you, only you. I'll say it as many times as you need-- I'm with _you_ , just you, I want _you_.»

As many times as Charles needs... that could be a great many. Charles already wants more, even though Erik has hardly stopped saying _just you_ since he first got started. Charles wraps his hand around Erik's cock, nuzzling down against Erik's neck, and draws up another mark with his lips and teeth and tongue, sucking and biting while Erik squirms and gasps beneath him. When he goes to his conference, he'll be marked so everyone sees, so everyone _knows_ Erik belongs to him.

It's still not enough. Charles lets Erik's cock go and switches his grip on Erik's wrists, pinning them at Erik's sides. Once there, Charles climbs down the length of him-- God, Erik's body, it's unreal, all that muscle, his long torso and the gorgeous dip of his waist, his narrow hips, all of it laid out for Charles to take and pleasure. And Charles plans on doing just that, his mouth hovering above Erik's cock now. "Tell me out loud," he growls, and then he's got his mouth on Erik's cock, swallowing down the thick hot length of it, letting it fill his mouth.

Under Charles's hands, Erik's wrists twist back and forth-- he isn't trying to get free, there's no tugging, just that light motion that encourages Charles to pin him all the harder. Erik's flow of satisfaction as soon as Charles tightens his grip is good for both of them. Charles comes up a little, sucking tightly at the head of Erik's cock, and Erik starts talking, finally. "I just want you, _just you, just you_ , oh God, Charles, please, please..."

Charles knows he's good at this, but hearing how hoarse Erik's voice is leaves him even more determined to be fantastic-- the best Erik's ever had, accept no substitutes, damn it. «Keep talking, keep saying it til you can't.»

"Charles-- Charles, _please_ , I need you, I need you, please--" It nearly amazes Charles that he can keep going after that, that he can possibly resist just drawing Erik's knees up and pushing into him. He strokes the underside of Erik's cock with his tongue, focused on giving Erik everything-- all he could ever want, more than he could have dreamed.

It works. "Just you!" Erik moans. "I'm yours, just you, I just want you, no one else, _ever_ , just you please please _please please please--_ "

All that love and sincerity radiating through their bond-- Charles could probably come just from feeling that and hearing this. It isn't just Erik's thoughts running away with him; he means every word. He's saying them out loud because he means it, and because Charles asked him to, and now that he's begging, his voice gives out and he's breathing hard and unsteady as he keeps mouthing _please_.

With a last deep suck, Charles abruptly mouths off, sliding off the couch and coming to his feet, pinning Erik's hands up above his head again. He meets Erik's eyes-- Erik's beautiful grey pleading eyes-- and says, "Don't move."

Erik swallows. "Please... Charles, please, I need you..."

Charles lets one of Erik's wrists go, feeling all the satisfaction in the world when Erik leaves his hand where Charles put it. He caresses Erik's cheek softly, his gaze intent on Erik's. "I'll take care of you. Stay right here."

"Please..."

"I'll be right back," Charles promises. "Will you be okay here? Just for a moment, darling."

Erik nods, and Charles doesn't waste time. He disappears into the bedroom, stripping out of his shirt and snatching up the things he'll need. Lube, those plain metal cuffs Erik liked so much at the shop, and a cock ring... that should do for this first round. He's back in a flash, bending down to kiss Erik again while snapping the cuffs on his wrists.

That settles Erik down immediately. He twists his wrists in the cuffs, and Charles gets to ride along with him as Erik feels the distinctive sensation of metal curved around his wrists. Everything Erik feels from that metal-- the weight, the sharp tang of the alloy, the rounded edges that Erik put on the cuffs the first time he wore them-- Charles gets to feel through his mind, and it's one of the few times Charles can truly be grateful for his ability. It's breathtaking, getting to share in Erik's experience when he feels metal.

But that isn't all Charles has for him. He settles down at Erik's side, caressing Erik's chest. "Better?"

Erik hums out a pleased note and nods. «I love you, Charles. I love you, I want you... please, Charles. Please...»

«I have you.» Charles gives Erik's cock a few strokes-- oh, yes, Erik's still quite hard, certainly hard enough for this. He tugs the leather cock ring up and around Erik's balls and shaft and snaps it into place. Metal no doubt would have pleased Erik even more, but with the leather, Charles can snap the ring off when he wants to, without having to order Erik to loosen the metal of a steel cock ring. Although... that's not a bad idea, either, come to think of it...

But that can wait til the next time and the next and the next. Right now, Erik's here, waiting for him. For _him_. Charles leans down and kisses Erik, taking his mouth, letting Erik give him everything. He gets a pump of lube in his hand and smooths it over Erik's erection, teasing him with light strokes. It's clearly good enough to drive Erik out of his mind; the way he's squirming and gasping and moaning softly for Charles, it all goes right to Charles's cock, making him ache to be inside him.

«I love this,» Erik sends. «I _love_ this. You feel so good, it's amazing, there's never been anyone like you... never, Charles... just you... you're all I've ever wanted...»

It's very nearly too much. If Erik weren't so wholeheartedly sincere, Charles knows he couldn't bear to listen to those words, wouldn't be able to believe them. But it's the truth-- mind-to-mind, he can feel how true it is, he can sense the way Erik's mind echoes his words with memories of Charles and their bond. From the first few months after he sparked to the first time Charles took Erik into his arms, there's never been anyone else who could make Erik feel this way. And if Charles has anything to say about it, there never will be.

«Look at you-- I want you so much, Erik, I want all of you, all for me.» With his free hand, Charles cups Erik's joining spot once more, his mouth exploring down. He scrapes his teeth across Erik's neck, biting down over a mark already coming up red, and then he's teasing and biting at Erik's nipples, making Erik cry out again.

A ring of metal lightly hitting against metal draws Charles's attention; he looks up to find that his bracelet is rocking back and forth on Erik's wrist, knocking against the handcuffs. It's so uniquely _Erik_ \-- his arousal translated to the motions of the metal on his body-- that Charles finds himself moaning, bending his head down again to kiss and lick his soulmate's skin.

«Mine...»

«Yours--» Erik gasps aloud, as Charles grips his cock, finds just the right pressure and rhythm to hold him on the edge. " _God!_ Yes, just like that, Charles, please, more of that-- _yours_ , just you--" And suddenly the emotions rolling through him are all tenderness-- Charles can almost feel Erik melting under his touch. "It couldn't be like this with anyone else, just you, Charles... just you."

Something about that sweetness sends Charles's urge to keep Erik spiraling out of control. Before he can stop himself, he's sending, «I want to recognize you, marry you, collar you, claim you every way there is--» Oh, God, too much. He's pushing; if Erik were ready for any of that, he'd have brought it up himself. But they're halfway out of their minds with need, and if Erik asks later, Charles can explain-- later, _later_ , now he needs to be inside Erik, rushing to coat his fingers with more slick and press them inside Erik's body, to suck hard at Erik's cock and get him right at the edge, _now_.

For a moment, shock and thrill take over Erik's mind and body, but then Erik tilts his head up, sending out a scattered sense of, «Wait, _wait_ , Charles, wait-- please--»

It isn't easy, but Charles stops. He pulls back, drawing his fingers out and letting his cock go, resting his head against Erik's thigh-- all the things he was afraid of, Erik telling him _it's too much, no_ , and now he has to listen, has to hear them...

Erik's gentle when he reaches up. His wrists are still cuffed, but somehow it doesn't seem awkward, the way he strokes his fingertips over Charles's face. «Charles...»

Charles takes a breath... a few breaths... and finally meets Erik's eyes. His vision's slightly blurred; he blinks until it clears.

« _Yes_ , Charles. I'll recognize you.» Erik brushes the backs of his fingers over Charles's cheek. Charles hardly dares to breathe, it all feels so fragile. «I will marry you.» He strokes his thumb over Charles's temple, and Charles lets his eyes drift close, focusing on that touch. «The day I can be on my knees and be sure I'm steady there, I'll take your collar.»

Charles closes his eyes again, bending his head down to kiss Erik's wrist-- the cuff and bracelet are in the way, so he kisses low on Erik's palm instead. Erik shivers all over at that, a frisson of guilty excitement moving through the bond, but that note doesn't make it into his voice when he speaks again. "I want to, Charles." Soft but strong; certain. "I want everything. I always have. I still do."

"I want all of it," Charles murmurs. "I want everything. I want all of you."

"You have me." Erik curves his fingers against Charles's chin, tips Charles's head up so they can look at each other again. «You'll always have me. I love you _so much_ , Charles. I need you. I need you.»

«So do I. I need you, Erik...» Charles leans down and nuzzles Erik's hand. «Tell me what you need _now_.» He still has a hand on Erik's thigh, and he moves it back to his cock, circling Erik's shaft just above his cock ring. Erik's cock jerks in his hand; however sweet this moment is, neither one of them's forgotten how it all began.

Erik lets his fingertips drift down, over the sensitive span of Charles's neck, down against his chest, and he cups Charles's windcatcher lightly, presses it against Charles's chest. There's a thrill running through Erik, Charles can feel it in their bond and directly from Erik's mind. Suddenly Erik grins, his mind brimming with confidence, sharp with arousal and pleasure. « _Own_ me. Take me, Charles. Make love to me, make me _yours_.»

Those are words Charles never thought he'd hear from Erik-- words he knows Erik's never given anyone-- and it makes Charles stop in his tracks, staring at Erik for a long, breathless moment.

And then there's no room in him anymore for _any_ sort of hesitation. « _Yes._ » He comes up on his knees and undoes his belt, his fly, shoves his trousers and pants down and hooks his fingers into Erik's hole-- he's slick from Charles's first foray and only barely opened up, but Charles just fists a handful of lube onto his cock and lines up, pushing in hard, bottoming out in one stroke and immediately going at him hard. _Make me yours_ , Erik said, and it doesn't take sex to do that, sex is just the seal on top of it-- but what a glorious thing to seal it with, this maddening pleasure that's like nothing Charles has ever felt before.

Erik puts his hands back above his head, moving with Charles, meeting him thrust-for-thrust. "Yes. _Yes_ , Charles--!" As Charles keeps driving into him, his head tilts back; his voice grows rough and hoarse. "Yes, _yes_ ," and then he's out of breath, out of sounds, all his words sent mind-to-mind, «I want you, I want you _so much_ , please, don't stop, I'm yours, I'm _yours_.»

They've reached a point like this a few times over this trip-- moments when Erik's certainty about his submission was far greater than any sense of worry or fear about it-- but now there's nothing but the two of them, and Erik's _sure_. Charles nearly lets himself drown in Erik's thoughts as he takes Erik's body; Erik is giving himself to Charles in every possible way, his hands still cuffed, his mind fully open to Charles, and he means every word he's sending, everything he's sharing. More than that, he's submitting and he's _glad_ about it. He's radiating joy, nearly overwhelmed by it, giving himself to Charles and loving every second of it.

It makes Charles want to fill every need Erik's ever had. Emotional, sexual-- he pins Erik at the upper arms, letting Erik feel what it's like to be pinned down and taken hard... and yet utterly, completely safe and cherished. He can give Erik more, though; he can sate Erik's masochism, too, if he can just balance long enough to sweep a hand down Erik's chest and pinch his nipple, _there_ , Erik arches and cries out underneath him. And when he's done shouting, he looks up at Charles with a huge grin and sends, «More!»

Charles switches hands, gives Erik's other nipple a strong twist. Erik squirms hard underneath him, panting for breath. The smile he's giving Charles is the most arousing thing Charles has ever seen, beyond any of his fantasies. «Harder,» Erik encourages, trying to angle his hips up to take more of Charles's cock. «Harder-- please, Charles!»

He can do that. He can give Erik harder, or faster, or more-- anything, anything at all, he's flying on the high of hearing Erik beg him for this. «Tell me again. Tell me what you need.»

Out loud, Erik's voice is still hoarse-- more than that, it sounds like the sounds he's making are being torn from him, years of hurt falling away with every word. "I need you, Charles! _You_ , I need you, I need to be _yours_ , please, take me, own me, _yours_ , please, Charles, please!" Tears are streaming down his face, but Charles can feel what Erik feels: freedom, gratitude, the sense that Erik's needed this moment for nearly as long as he can remember.

And Charles has needed it every bit as much. He reaches up again, his fingers skating over the base of Erik's neck, where a collar would lie. He can do more than dream about that now; when Erik's ready, he'll take Charles's collar. He can window-shop openly, he can let himself picture exactly what he wants around Erik's throat, marking him as belonging to Charles alone.

But for now, he leans to get his hand around the back of Erik's head and takes hold of soul's-home, his other hand wrapping around Erik's cock. «You'll come for me, won't you? You're mine, you're going to come when I say.»

A hint of nervousness streaks through Erik, but his mind is so open, they're tied so close, Charles can tell it isn't a hot button or a serious concern. It's something they can work through together. Erik looks up at him with a hot, desperate expression-- how can one man be so beautiful, Charles will never understand it-- and sends, «I'll try, Charles! I want to, I want to so much, I'll try--» Oh, God, if he stumbles now-- what if Charles was wrong, what if-- but no, Erik's not falling, he's giving Charles a wry look, his brows drawn together with chagrin. «But I _suck_ at orgasm control.» Just as quickly, he's adding, «But I'll try!»

Nothing could melt Charles's heart more than those words. It's a challenge, but Erik's going to try and meet it, for _him_. «That's all I need.» With a flick of his fingers, he undoes the snap on the cock ring and begins to strip Erik's cock in time with his thrusts, his touch steady and demanding.

Erik keeps his eyes on Charles and makes sounds-- more and more of them, each one gorgeous and giving voice to the effort it's taking to control himself. With Charles's cock filling him and Charles's hand stroking him over and over, of course he's close to the edge, but he's giving Charles his best effort, his submission, wholly and completely. His cries get more and more strained as he works to hold himself back, and Charles feels the bond flooding with desire-- not just for this moment, but for everything, every kind of sex, every kind of submission, all the things they've talked about and dreamed about and fantasized about, together or apart.

Thank God, Charles can cheat in a sense at orgasm control. He can sense when Erik really can't hold back anymore, and when he feels Erik hit that point, _that's_ when he gives the order. His voice is ruined, low and hoarse, but he says the words out loud: "Come _now_ , Erik."

More tears fall over Erik's cheeks, from the pleasure and the strain of all he's been giving to Charles; Erik's face is flushed, his hairline damp with sweat. And even so, there's more he can give, and he does, gasping out the words, his breath all but gone. "Oh please oh please _yes yes yes_ \--"

The begging might have done Charles in all by itself, but Erik arches and comes, for Charles, _when he was told_ , Erik's cock dark and gorgeous, come streaking up his stomach and his chest, muscles straining, the veins on his arms standing out as he tightens his fists in his cuffs. The metal strains and twists, Charles can even feel his windcatcher tug hard toward Erik, but the handcuffs stay together this time, and nothing snaps. He stays bound up, just the way Charles put him, leaving Charles practically flatlined with lust and awe.

And there's no waiting, no need to hold out a moment more. He keeps going, fucking Erik through his orgasm even as he's coming himself, voicing it with a cry-- and afterward, still going til there's no wringing any more pleasure out of Erik, and Charles finally brings himself to a halt, panting, shivers running through him.

The cuffs finally drop off Erik's wrists onto the floor, and Erik reaches up, holding Charles's shoulders in his hands, looking up at him with so much love, he nearly has an aura-- though Charles blinks a few times, realizing it's not so much an aura as that his vision was blurred from all the exertion.

«Charles...» Even the thought is fuzzy as Erik smiles up at him.

Charles turns his head and takes Erik's hand, lifting it to his lips; he brushes a kiss over the inside of Erik's wrist, where the bracelet rests warm against his skin. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.» Erik grins broadly, showing all his teeth. «Have I mentioned you're _incredible_ in bed?!»

Laughing, Charles slips his hand into Erik's and squeezes. «Not in those exact words.» He smiles. «It's you. We're good together.»

Erik nods. «Do you want to try...» Charles is halfway to pointing out they're both wholly exhausted, but then again, for Erik, he'd do his best no matter what Erik asked of him. «Do you want to try sleeping together tonight?»

Charles's heart might burst, it's so full. He nods, kisses Erik's wrist again, and sends, «Yes.»

They can't stop touching each other as they head to the bath and clean up. Erik looks at himself in the mirror, reaching up to feel the bruises on his neck; his pride and smugness are palpable through the bond, and very gratifying.

Charles starts to head for the room with the separate beds, but Erik makes an impatient noise and tugs Charles off to the master bedroom instead, tossing the covers back on the king-sized bed and slipping under them.

«You're sure...?» But Charles can feel it; Erik's very sure. Charles rolls on his side to face Erik, resting his brow against Erik's, his arm wrapped around Erik's back, their legs tangled together. "Thank you," he whispers, voice rough. "It means a lot to me. Sleeping together."

Erik slides his arm around Charles's back and hugs him hard. "I want that with you. I don't want to hold back _anything_ with you."

Charles brings his hand up and strokes back over Erik's hair, so familiar now, short and messy, a combination of soft and bristly against his palm. He rubs over Erik's joining spot, sensing the warm contented bliss that practically radiates from Erik's mind. It never used to mean anything to him, being someone's first, someone's _only_ , but knowing that Erik's only ever shared the pleasure of soul's-home with him... he can't help loving that, can't help claiming it. "Mine."

Erik smiles at him, and Charles feels Erik's emotions through their bond, with his ability, everything. Everything is Erik now; with no neighbors nearby, there's no need to shield, no need to think about anything in the world but each other.

"Yours," Erik says, and he closes his eyes, content at last.


	26. Working It Out (6/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There's another chapter ready for Monday, too (4/28), and after that... we'll see!

"You know, I think there are still passes for the conference available. I can call the convention center at the hotel, ask about it for you," Erik offers. He's in a rush to get himself dressed and out the door-- last night there were no damned dreams about Sebastian, thank heavens, and morning found the two of them as tangled together as they were the night before. Charles woke up when Erik rubbed his face in Charles's armpit-- he'd say 'inadvertently', but after last night, Erik's fairly certain his subconscious was trying to get himself marked by Charles in every possible way.

So now he knows just how ticklish Charles is: very, _very_ ticklish. Ticklish enough that the scrape of Erik's stubble against Charles's soft armpit hairs not only woke him up, it launched Charles into gasps and flailing and then a burst of rueful telepathic apologies.

Which turned into Erik apologizing, too, only not really meaning it very much, and Charles quickly figuring out why and pinning him down, and... well. Erik's running a little late now. A little late, and a lot sore. It's worth it.

"I appreciate the offer, but I took a look at the website, and the programs are quite specific to MFMR-- I'd be lost. And I think it's healthy for us to have different interests," Charles says. Unlike Erik, who's dressed already-- which took most of Charles's shower, since Erik tried on three different shirts before deciding which one showed off all his bruises the best-- Charles still has a towel wrapped around his waist. He's rubbing shaving cream onto his cheeks, his safety razor out on the counter. Erik wrinkles his nose; that razor's been used twice already this week, and the blades are beginning to dull. A swift touch of his ability and it's sharp again, never mind that Charles has extra blades in his shaving kit. No need for his dominant to shave with a dull razor when he's got a metallokinetic for a soulmate.

"These aren't different interests," Erik tries. "We're both proponents of mutant rights. There's an MFMR branch in New York, we could try to connect with New York members at the conference."

"But then you wouldn't be spending time with your friends," Charles points out. "You said you only really see some of them at conferences--" He drags his razor across his cheek and looks at the blade, smiling up at Erik. "Did you put a new edge on this while I wasn't looking?"

"A new five edges," Erik corrects. "A good straight razor is much better, you know."

"Says the man who mostly uses a beard trimmer!" Charles laughs. "I wondered why you didn't use a straight razor, I'd have thought you'd be all in favor."

"I am," Erik says, wistfulness breaking into his voice. Charles stops shaving, despite how ridiculous he looks with just two strips of clean cheek and the rest of his jaw covered in shaving cream. "I haven't used a straight razor in years. Not since I stopped wearing sub's clothes and--" He points at his cropped hair. "There was a certain look I wanted. Clean-shaven wasn't really a part of that."

"You look wonderful to me."

"I know, but--" He pauses. "You don't mind the beard burn, really? I try not to, but..."

"Erik, I'd love you whether your cheeks were bare or bearded or covered in blue fur." Charles grins, rinses his razor, and goes back to shaving. "You can do what you please; that'll please me."

Erik can't help smiling. "You're going to be an easy dominant to live with," he says, and just like that he's got an armful of Charles, shaving cream smeared across his cheeks, too, Charles's mouth on his.

«What was that for?» Erik asks, not that he minds in the least. He rubs his hands up and down Charles's back, steering clear of the towel for now-- he's late enough as it is.

Charles backs off, but he's still grinning among all that smeared shaving cream. «Living with,» he sends. «As soon as you're ready...»

«As soon as we pick a place,» Erik sends, bending down to rinse the shaving cream off his cheeks and chin. «We still need to visit Pittsburgh and New York. Unless you'd be willing to stay here.»

When he looks up at Charles's expression in the mirror, he pauses-- Charles's teeth are sunk into his lower lip, a line between his brows. "Charles?"

Charles glances down at his watch, set out on the counter. "You're going to miss the opening remarks!"

Erik can feel the hands on Charles's watch, and Charles isn't joking-- Erik has twenty minutes to make it to the hotel. It's not a short drive, either. "Fuck. I'll see you when it's over. You'll let me know if you need anything?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry. Stuart's going to be here in half an hour to drive me back into town," it still throws Erik for a bit of a loop, hearing Charles refer to a chauffeur as if everyone has them, "and I'll keep you updated on what I'm doing. But you'll loop me in when you make dinner plans?"

"Absolutely," Erik promises. Despite the shaving cream, he steals one last kiss, and then he's out the door, ready for his conference, and more than ready to show off Charles's marks to all his friends.

\---

The MFMR conference is invigorating, and Erik gets a tremendous charge out of seeing so many mutants united by common purpose. He loves that it's _Mutants_ For Mutant Rights, mutant-only by definition, so there's no time wasted on 101-level crap, no coddling to make sure human allies feel included.

Between panels, Erik makes more of an effort to connect with people than he normally would, seeking introductions to mutants based in New York and here in Mill Point. 

For some reason, he always finds it a lot easier to address groups and direct and coordinate people than to make small talk and network, but he does his best. And it's easier now, knowing that if anyone asks, he can say he's bonded, that his soulmate's visiting Mill Point with him. It's easier with the confidence he feels from wearing the bracelet and Charles's marks.

All that's missing is Charles himself. The first time introducing his friends to Charles didn't go anything like Erik imagined, though it wasn't until afterward that he realized he had expectations to thwart-- and that most of his preconceptions seem to be drawn from his favorite trashy romance novels, to boot.

Somewhere in his hindbrain he'd wanted his friends to be as stunned by Charles as Erik feels. He wanted them to be envious of Erik's incredible luck. It's a little mortifying to realize he fantasized about mentioning, oh so casually, that Charles went to Oxford and teaches concordance and picked up new cuffs and clamps and sounds and a flogger just for him.

Instead, thanks to the Spurs game playing at the restaurant-- and the awkwardness of Erik freezing out Misty, barely acknowledging her existence-- the conversation revolved almost completely around sports.

It was strange to see Charles in context of those familiar faces. For one thing, Brian and Marvin towered over him. When it's just the two of them, Erik rarely thinks about their height difference. Everything about Charles feels right, feels inevitable and perfect. Next to his friends, though, Charles looks as if he's built on a slightly smaller scale, flawlessly in proportion, but... down a size or two. Erik could probably pick him up bodily; he could hold Charles up against the wall with Charles's legs wrapped around him, driving into him, and that's _definitely_ not a thought he should be having. Erik strikes it from his mind. He's finally, finally beginning to feel natural with his submission again. He's not going to let random thoughts distract him from regaining this part of himself after so long.

Here at the conference he's gotten quite a few admiring looks from doms who notice Erik's bruises and then clock the bracelet he's wearing. That boosts Erik's ego a bit. And every time he sees anyone looking at the bracelet, he feels so much giddy pride that his dominant put his claim on Erik for everyone to see.

Though he tries to tone it down when he realizes one of his friends is having a bad day. Brian isn't one of the most laidback mutants when it comes to long-term mutant rights goals at the best of times, but today he's snapping at anyone who disagrees with him. Fortunately for Erik, the two of them are generally on the same page, so Erik can back Brian up when tempers are starting to flare, wrangle some concessions out of people with less aggressive ideas and plans.

By the end of the first day, Erik feels more certain than ever that mutants everywhere _need_ things like this-- conferences where they can work out the next necessary goals in the struggle for mutant rights and mutant acceptance, places where they can come together without having to suck up to humans who are determined to make everything about themselves. Places like Mill Point itself, where mutants are the norm, and humans are only there if they believe in the superiority of mutation and the undeniable fact that mutation is the future.

"You want to get some dinner?" Brian asks, nudging Erik.

"Yeah, let's. I'll text Charles so he can meet us, he isn't far." Erik's been able to sense his location all day long, and though it seems Charles didn't do all that much in town-- he's pretty sure Charles spent most of the day in John's coffeehouse-- maybe he brought some work with him or had some papers to grade or something. He'll probably be glad for a chance to be around more people, Erik decides, and he fires off a quick text message, already eager to get Charles back in his arms and back at his side.

\---

When Charles's cell phone buzzes, he can't help thinking, _Finally!_

It's been a long, slow, tedious day. Fortunately, he doesn't have to worry yet about sending bored and peevish emotions to Erik through the bond, and he could use his telepathy to check in now and then with a flicker of emotion when he felt something particularly excited from Erik. The conference must be going well, since Erik's felt mostly positive and determined all day.

For his part, Charles walked up and down the few blocks of downtown Mill Point, then admitted defeat and took a corner booth at the coffeehouse, tugging his laptop out of his satchel to get some work out of the way. Fortunately, the coffeehouse is close to the hotel; with hundreds of minds at the conference, it was almost enough low-level buzz to keep him from jumping at every new mind that came along.

He'd nearly forgotten what small towns are like. Mill Point's population hovers around ten thousand, and although there's something sweet and satisfying about sensing so many mutant minds in one place, it's a lot more effort here to focus and go about his business normally than it is in Manhattan. 

In the city, well over a million minds blend into a blur, a dull background noise not unlike an oscillating fan or a rushing river. He doesn't have to shield as tightly there, because there's little chance of picking up individual thoughts accidentally; it takes work to single out any one mind from all those masses. 

Here, each mind is its own world, each different point of focus a distraction. It's enough to make Charles grateful that Pittsburgh has a population of over 300,000, and he knows from looking up Erik's address on Google Maps that Erik lives downtown, in a place with good population density. It won't be Manhattan, but it doesn't need to be-- it just needs to be bigger than this.

But the conference will only be a few more days, and Charles doesn't mind putting up with tedium and annoyance during the day as long as he has Erik all to himself at night. After dinner, that is. He tucks his laptop into his messenger bag, waves goodbye to John, and heads out, easily finding his way back to the hotel and winding his way through the lobby, catching up to Erik... and Brian. And another dom, who's facing the two of them as all three of them laugh and chatter.

"You're a fucking lucky dom," says the new element, looking at Erik's bruises with open admiration. Which would be-- not a _good_ thing to hear, but at least less rude, if Charles were actually at Erik's side and had been able to make his presence known. Instead, though, those words are leveled at Brian, and Charles steps up his pace, sending Erik a quick hello, mind-to-mind.

Erik turns and holds his arm out, and Charles tucks himself right against Erik's side. "Hello, darling," Charles says, not too loud, of course, but loud enough to get the point across.

He _thought..._ "And you share?" asks the other dom. He seems friendly, now that Charles is focusing on him. There's no malice or even ill intent in his frame of mind, but he goes on to grin at Charles and say, "Fuck off, I've got next!"

Erik stiffens-- more shock in his emotions than anything-- but Charles smiles back, equally friendly but unmistakably firm. "No, you do not." Erik's arm is around Charles's waist, his right hand on Charles's hip, and Charles reaches down, covering Erik's bracelet with his hand. "There's no sharing here, sorry."

With that, Erik's tension dissipates, and Charles is deeply gratified to feel it turn into warmth, arousal, and affection. He kisses Charles's temple before turning back to the other dom. "Ira, _this_ is my soulmate-- my dominant--" Charles gently squeezes Erik's wrist, sending Erik his pleasure at hearing _that_ , particularly now-- "Charles Xavier." He hugs Charles's waist. "And he's right, we don't share. At all. Sorry." «I'm not actually sorry,» Erik sends, although the delighted smile on his face says the same thing in terms Ira and Brian can both read. 

Good.

Ira covers his face with one hand. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry!" He looks at Erik and Brian and shakes his head. "The way you guys were joined at the hip in there, I just thought-- 'scuse me while I turn into a puddle."

Joined at the hip? With Brian? Charles realizes he's got one eyebrow raised high, and he calms himself down by squeezing Erik's wrist again. After that he's able to say to Ira, "No need. It happens. Nice to meet you, Ira." He offers a handshake.

"Ira Willis," Ira answers, taking Charles's hand. "Nice to meet you, too-- really, really sorry."

"He wasn't joking about the puddle," Brian teases. Ira laughs at that, the tension easing a little. "That's his mutation, he turns into water."

"Saline," Ira corrects. "But still-- yeah. So Charles Xavier, huh? Like the Xavier Foundation?"

Erik stands up just a little taller, if Charles isn't imagining things-- and the pride in the bond says he's not. Brian, on the other hand, blinks at Charles in surprise. Maybe he didn't know, although Charles feels fairly certain Erik would have told Brian his last name, at least.

"Yes, that's us," he tells Ira. "My sister and I created the foundation in my father's memory."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ira says. "Was your father a mutant, too?"

"Thank you. He was baseline, but very devoted to mutant education."

"Huh." Ira nods, assimilating that, and turns to Erik. "What about you, were your parents mutants?"

Of course, Erik's rightfully proud of this, and answers, "Yes, both of them. And my grandparents on my mother's side-- we don't know about my father's side of the family."

"And Erik's the third generation with metal-related mutations," Charles adds.

Erik gives Charles's temple a fond nuzzle. "I am." To Ira, he asks, "You?"

"My mom has flippers-- hands and feet, and her parents were mutants, too, so they didn't have the webbing between her hands and feet cut. Plus she can breathe underwater. So I guess that's two generations with water-related abilities." Ira finally manages to relax fully at that; family pride does seem to be quite the ice-breaker around here. "You don't mind if I join you guys for dinner? Brian said he and Erik were meeting up with some friends and going out for Italian."

"By all means," Charles says. It's easy to be magnanimous now, when Erik's arm is warm around his waist and he's sensing that Erik isn't the least bit interested in Ira-- or in Brian, for that matter. "I'm a telepath. I don't read minds without permission, but if you don't mind, I do better if I can take in immediate emotions, the sort of thing most people pick up from tone of voice and body language."

Ira's friendly demeanor doesn't change, but he says, "No, thanks. Is that okay?"

It's not okay with Erik, who sends Charles a little mental growl, but to Charles, it's par for the course. "It's all right. I may not catch much subtext, so sorry in advance if I miss any jokes."

"Fair enough!" Ira nods. "I need to run up to my hotel room to put my folder away-- I'll be back in a flash."

"Actually, I need to do the same," Brian says. "Erik, Charles, see you in a minute."

Both of them vanish toward the elevator banks, and Erik turns fully to Charles, wrapping his arms around Charles's waist. «What _is_ it with people...»

«It's fine, really. I'd rather people were honest about it. Better to block them than to sense them upset and paranoid about it.» This is all so normal to Charles that Erik's reaction is a bit puzzling, though at least it didn't explode into a shouting match like things did with Misty. Who is nowhere to be seen-- apparently when Erik cuts someone off, he's thorough. Charles tightens his hold on Erik, grateful he isn't in that category himself.

«Well, you deserve better.» Erik leaves another soft kiss against Charles's temple. «You always deserve better.»

Charles leans up for a kiss, and although part of him is tempted to mark Erik again-- here, now, in front of everyone-- he keeps it light with an effort. «I have better. I have you.»

\---

Dinner turns out to be lovely. Though Ira is a bit opaque to Charles, since Charles is blocking out Ira's moods, he doesn't direct any more flirtation or innuendo toward Erik, and for better or worse, that's Charles's primary concern.

And the conversation revolves around Charles's favorite topics: mutation, and heredity of X-gene mutant traits across generations. Charles heard Erik's stories about his family through letters and email, but he relishes the chance to see and hear and _feel_ him light up when he's talking about his grandparents.

"The story goes that my Grandpa Kristof bought his ticket to America, figuring that if Grandpa Julien had stuck with him through the war years, he'd find him even overseas. And he needed a new start-- by then, he was the only surviving member of his family, which is one reason why we just don't know much about mutants in the Lehnsherr family earlier than Grandpa Kristof." Charles squeezes Erik's hand; Erik squeezes back. "Meanwhile, Grandpa Julien looked at a boat schedule and decided in a flash, _I'm going to America. I don't know why, I just know I have to go._ "

"Bond intuition," Ira nods.

"It was, they realized that later, and Grandpa Julien knew Grandpa Kristof was alive-- but it was too much to hope that he might be feeling bond intuition, particularly so soon after V-E Day. Still, he got on the boat, and stowed his bag in his second-class berth... and then he ended up on the deck, just walking, suddenly feeling like his soulmate was close."

"Was there a Titanic moment?" Ira extends his arms at his sides for a moment, but after looking around the restaurant, quickly pulls them in again to avoid clocking a waitress at waist-level. "King of the world and all that?"

"Oh, I doubt it," Erik laughs. "But when they told the story, Grandpa Kristof always used to say--" Erik's voice takes on a lower, rumbling timbre, and he grunts, "And then we _docked_ ," sounding terribly put-upon.

Charles laughs aloud and throws an arm around Erik's shoulders. Erik turns and smiles at him, leaning in for a brief kiss. Brian and Ira are laughing, too-- it's easy enough to imagine someone being disgruntled about having their seeker rush interrupted, even years and years later. Charles can only hope Erik never regrets the turn theirs took.

"And there was your grandmother, too," Charles says, squeezing Erik's shoulder. "What about her?"

"Oh, of course. Nana-- Ida Koehler-- she had a mutation, but no one quite knew what it was. She was a Holocaust survivor, too, and she was unbonded. She lived on the same block as my grandfathers... I don't know how they came around to the idea of the three of them having a child together, but in any event, my mother was the result."

"It wasn't so unusual, three-parent households. Particularly not in the 1940s and 1950s," Charles said. "Surrogacy didn't exist as we know it today, and there's something to 'it takes a village to raise a child'-- having more parental figures around could certainly be a benefit."

"Mom always said it meant she didn't get away with anything." Erik's smile grows a little sad. "I can't really remember my father."

Charles quickly slides his hand into Erik's. «I'm sorry.»

"--but at any rate. My mother's mutation was to control machines, and my biological grandfather, Kristof Lehnsherr, he was able to transmute one type of metal to another. Thankfully he was able to keep that a secret during the war..." Erik's expression darkens.

"But it does make Erik the third generation to have a mutation related to metal," Charles fills in.

"It has to make you curious, doesn't it?" Ira asks. "What would the fourth generation be like?"

Erik and Charles look at each other, and Erik is so startled that his eyebrows are reaching for his hairline. Charles clears his throat, not sure how to respond, either.

"Don't rush them," Brian says, reaching over and poking Ira in the shoulder. "They're still in the honeymoon phase, nobody should be pushing them to have kids yet!"

"Puddle," Ira offers. "I'll see if I can get a bucket from one of the waitstaff."

"No need," Charles offers. "So tell us about your mother's mutation... she could breathe underwater, did you say?"

Erik's attention is mostly on Charles for the rest of the evening, and Charles wishes he had the nerve to ask Erik more about having children-- but when they're not even living in the same city just yet, it does seem like it's skipping ahead a few steps.

When they get back to the cabin, Erik steers Charles back to the master bedroom. "I think it's going to be all right tonight," Erik says. "Try not to elbow me in the head if I wake up with my face in your armpit again."

"It's not my fault I'm so ticklish!" Charles protests, but Erik's only teasing, and Charles comes up on his toes to give Erik a kiss. It's good between them, it really is. Charles wishes this getaway would never end.


	27. Working It Out (7/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay (Hels was unexpectedly out of town on Monday!). No ETA on the next chapter, but expect good things when it arrives. ^_^;;

Erik wakes up with such a thorough feeling of well-being and happiness that he can't stand to get up, in case those emotions don't make it out of bed with him.

He's not used to lolling in bed, though, and he can't help fidgeting. His face isn't mashed into Charles's armpit this time. He's tucked in behind Charles, spooning him. He considers rolling onto his back-- there's room in the bed to do it-- but Charles seems so content that Erik can't bear disturbing him.

Although he might end up disturbing Charles for other reasons. He shifts his hips. A few minutes ago he could have blamed his erection on morning wood, but now he's aware of Charles's body, compact and perfect, his ass beautifully-rounded and positioned just so-- all Erik would have to do is rock his hips, and he'd be sliding up and down Charles's cleft. It probably wouldn't take him long...

Charles stirs minutely, his ass rubbing against Erik's cock. When he moves his arm, resting it on Erik's thigh, Erik holds his breath, his eyes almost crossing with desire. If he rolled Charles onto his stomach, he could put his mouth on Charles's trapezius muscle, maybe even his teeth. _Stop that, what's the matter with you?_ From sleeping at Charles's feet to imagining putting marks on his shoulders... Erik rests his forehead against Charles's hair, reminding himself who he is, where he is. Mill Point, with his _dominant._ His dominant.

But his dominant is squirming back against him, and when his hand tickles against Erik's thigh again, Erik stops resisting and leans his head down, mouthing that solid curve from shoulder to neck.

Charles responds with a muffled, indeterminate "Mm?" noise, and when he breathes, "Oh," Erik realizes Charles is only now waking up.

"Sorry," Erik backs off, "I thought you were already awake."

«Not just yet,» Charles yawns. «But that doesn't mean you have to stop, that was lovely.»

«Are you sure?» Erik asks, already snuggling close against him again, nibbling his neck.

«Yes. Actually...» Charles makes another wordless sound of enjoyment, and this time the hand groping Erik's thigh is definitely deliberate, «anything we've done awake, or talked about doing, you can start while I'm asleep.»

"What?" Erik's startled enough to stop what he's doing and say it out loud.

Charles rolls onto his side to face him. «It's sort of a fond fantasy, to think of waking up like that.» He smiles drowsily. «You're the only one who could, you know. I sense presences even in my sleep, and I rouse a bit when anyone else gets that close. But you feel like a part of me. I don't wake up that way when it's you.»

It's an idea that appeals to Erik's secret and well-hidden romantic side, which isn't so hidden from Charles; he's smiling more widely in response to Erik's feelings, pulling Erik into his arms.

It's early enough they can have a leisurely morning in bed, hands and mouths pleasuring each other with a slow, lazy rhythm. With Charles still a little dozy and languid, Erik licks and kisses him more intently than usual, and soon finds he's leaving faint beard burn on Charles's freckled skin. Charles sends pleasure and approval mind-to-mind the entire time, so Erik doesn't worry much about it, but it reminds him that his stubble and buzzcut are starting to feel like outgrown clothes. He hasn't managed to get his hands on a straight razor yet, but next time he'll have to bring one along. His cheeks feel scruffy these days, and he wants the experience of dragging a straight razor down Charles's skin, giving him the best shave of his life.

Erik coasts into the second day of the conference on a cushion of afterglow, and his first roundtable session goes well-- he feels calmer than usual, but sharper, too. On the second day of a gathering like this, they always cover more contentious topics, but his temper holds, even when he jumps into the fray. It's like he can see the weak points in everyone's arguments the way he senses the screws and nails in the furniture, pipes and wires in the walls, and he can dismantle them just as easily. When other people counter him successfully, he can consider what they're saying instead of fuming.

He feels as passionate and as involved as he always does, and no one's ever going to describe him as easygoing, but he feels more centered. Balanced. It feels good.

The last panel runs long, and Erik's stomach is growling when they finally get to the Q&A. Charles gives him a little mental nudge of inquiry, and when Erik gets it, he sends, «I'm starving!», not sure if Charles is close enough to read actual words or not.

He is. «I can tell,» Charles's mental voice is equal parts dry, fond, and amused. «I am as well, now. I could grab some takeaway and we could head back to the cabin...»

«Yes!» And then Erik's so busy discussing dinner with Charles that he misses a talking point as they're wrapping up, with Brian elbowing him to get his attention. "Sorry. What?"

"Headcount for people who are in the Mutant State Project," Brian says. "You're still in, right?"

Erik lifts his hand immediately. Only about sixty percent of the people in this room are on the official list, but with that much support, Erik has a feeling they can get more names before everyone heads home. There's nothing else like this, this feeling of home and community. Even in his mutant neighborhood in Pittsburgh, it just isn't the same.

But after spending a second entire day without Charles, all while feeling Charles so close to him, Erik's itching to get back to the cabin, tired of being apart from his soulmate. He bows out of dinner with the others and meets Charles at a little Chinese restaurant, helping Charles with the takeout boxes and carrying them out to the car.

"You're sure you don't want to have dinner with your friends?" Charles asks, not for the first time. Erik gets the bags settled in the back seat and climbs into the driver's seat, leaning over and kissing Charles hard.

"Oh," Charles murmurs, reaching up to stroke the short buzz of Erik's hair. «I missed you, too.»

They're both all too aware that their time in Mill Point is growing short. Erik wraps his arms around Charles when they're going to sleep, grateful he's finally over that compulsion to sleep at Charles's feet. How he's ever going to get to sleep on his own, back in Pittsburgh, he doesn't know.

\---

The last day of the conference isn't their last day in Mill Point-- Charles and Erik have one more day together, to spend alone and say goodbye in private-- but since almost everyone is leaving in the morning, the Pittsburgh contingent takes over a sizeable chunk of the steakhouse for dinner. 

The choice of venue delights Erik, which isn't any surprise to Charles. In fact, he's pleased that he and Erik are finally starting to get to know each other well enough that he could have predicted Erik's vote coming in for steak.

But some other things aren't so predictable. When the conversation turns toward the future, it's obvious right away that Charles is outnumbered at this table-- but not outgunned.

"The Mutant State Project? Really?" Charles asks Brian, shaking his head. 

"Of course, really," Brian says impatiently. "You're not in?"

"Rather not," Charles says. "It would take sixty thousand mutants to move the needle decisively in Maine elections, and that's assuming all mutants would vote the same way, which is hardly a safe assumption when we're such a heterogeneous cohort. And no matter how many mutants sign a webpage agreeing to move to Maine, only a fraction of them are actually in a position to uproot everything in order to move to a place few of them have ever even seen."

"Hey, believe it or not, just because this is _your_ first trip to Mill Point doesn't mean every other mutant in the world likes being outnumbered by humans all the time," Brian fires back. "Everyone I know who's come here absolutely loves it. It's the one place in the country, in the _world_ , where we really are at home."

"And how sad is that?" Charles asks. "We should be working toward a world where mutants can be at home anywhere, everywhere. Where we don't need to mark our territory because we have as firm a right to all the world as anyone."

"That's never going to happen," Brian says. "Humans are always going to be threatened by mutants. It doesn't matter if we have different eye color or hair color, or if we can lift tanks-- humans are afraid of people who are different from them, and they're especially afraid of mutants who can do more than they can."

Ordinarily, Charles would say something anodyne about education creating a better future, and try to find some common ground or change the subject. But it feels wrong to play down his beliefs like that in front of Erik. Instead he says, "Everyone's afraid of differences until they're educated to understand them. You're afraid of what you believe humans might do to mutants."

The people surrounding Charles and Brian turn to look at them. Even Erik's fallen silent, his silverware laid carefully down by his plate. Charles can feel tension simmering in Erik, and the people who allowed Charles to read their emotions-- Brian included-- are all feeling wary now, some of them outright offended. Brian's one of the latter.

"I'm not _afraid_ of humans," Brian says evenly. "But if history's shown me anything, it's that a group with power is never going to let that power go without a fight."

"He's right," Erik adds, quiet and strong. The discomfort Charles feels from him is getting more severe, but he doesn't back down. "We saw that in the '60s, and it's been the same for every group that's pushed for progress... it was just more obvious then. Both Kennedys. Martin Luther King. Change was so terrifying to humans that they killed those who were advocating for it. Nonviolence meant nothing to them."

Charles looks carefully at Erik. "And what does it mean to you?"

For a moment, there's silence. Brian starts to say, "There's nonviolence and then there's--"

But Erik's quiet words immediately silence Brian, bringing a hush to the rest of the table, too. "You of all people know what I've lost by holding back, by giving the benefit of the doubt."

Charles flushes, but he doesn't back down. "We're not talking about individuals, Erik. We're talking about society as a whole."

"Individuals are what make up society as a whole. While we're scattered, there are always going to be mutants at risk. We need to come together so we can protect one another."

"We need to be working toward _progress_ , not just reacting out of fear," Charles tries. "We have to work with our reality, and the reality is that mutants and humans _do_ live together, we _have_ to live together. We're only half of one percent of the population. Most of us are born into human families. We need to work toward a world that encompasses all of us, protects all of us."

"We don't even live in a world where people accept non-bonded partnerships," points out the mutant at Charles's left, a young woman named Lani. "In some countries, you can be killed for having a relationship with someone who isn't your soulmate. Here in the States, only-- what is it now, twenty-three states...?" She glances at Brian, who nods in affirmation. "Twenty-three states extend lifemate recognition rights."

"A number that's growing every year," Charles replies.

"Even so. How many years can we afford to wait for mutant rights to be recognized?"

"How many of our children have to be threatened before we say it's enough?" Brian says.

"None of our children should be under threat. But neither should baseline human children," Charles says. "And what do you expect to happen to the mutants you leave behind, if the Mutant State Project actually does take hold? You were saying you hoped Erik and I would end up in Pittsburgh, because you can't afford to lose his leadership and the kids there need his guidance-- but you're willing to leave the kids in Pittsburgh behind yourself if you get enough signatures on a website? What sort of sense does that make?"

"If we hit sixty thousand, Erik's coming with us."

Charles's head whips round, and he stares at Erik. "You signed?"

"Years ago," Erik says. He switches to telepathy before adding, «But there's nothing I can do to persuade you to come with me, is there?»

«Erik...» Charles reaches out and takes Erik's hand. Erik weaves his fingers into Charles's, squeezing hard. «It's never going to happen. They'll never gather the signatures they need, and even if they do, I'm _right_. Barely a tenth of the people would actually come, if that. You want Mill Point to be our battleground, but you couldn't even put sixty thousand people here. There aren't jobs for them, there's no infrastructure to support them. There isn't enough housing, let alone roads that would handle that amount of traffic, the power grid would need to be rebuilt--»

«But if we could. If we _could_.» Erik looks at Charles, his hand still clasped tightly with Charles's. «You wouldn't come.»

It kills Charles to think it, but: «I'd do everything in my power to convince you not to go. I want to be with you, Erik, and I'd try my best, but I don't think I could be happy here long-term.»

Erik looks down at the table, reaching out with his free hand, his thumb stroking the handle of his fork. Barely a moment's gone by, thoughts are so much faster than words aloud, and Erik says quietly, "Looks like things are different now."

"Oh, goddamnit, Erik--"

"Don't," Charles says to Brian, his hand still on Erik's. "If you respect mutants, if you respect their choices, then respect _him_."

Brian ignores Charles entirely. "I never thought of you as the kind of guy who'd jump when his dom says boo."

"I'm not jumping," Erik says evenly. "But I won't leave him."

«Thank you,» Charles can't help sending. «Erik, thank you.»

«It doesn't mean I'm happy about this,» Erik sends back. The relief Charles feels dwindles, even with Erik's fingers still threaded through his.

"We need everyone," Brian tries. "All our leaders, all our strongest allies."

"We do," Charles cuts in. "But we need them where they _are_."

Brian finally sits back, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at Charles. "Man, nothing here is good enough for you, is it? If it's not Manhattan, it's nothing-- is that it?"

"No, not at all." Charles gestures around the restaurant. "In this room alone, mutants outnumber humans by _far_ \--"

"And here, our kids grow up understanding that's nothing to be ashamed of, that it's normal. People grow up without fear. Don't you want that for _every_ mutant child?"

"Of course I do! But don't you see-- this is one of the very very few places, nearly unique, where mutants aren't an underserved population. There are adult mutants here of almost every type of mutation willing to get involved and support each other and provide guidance to the kids. Which is fantastic! This is how it _should_ be. But there are hundreds of thousands of families out there who can't drop everything and move to Maine, and they need that support and help as well."

Erik squeezes Charles's hand one last time, and then lets go. That hurts, but Charles simply folds his hands together, resting them on the edge of the table. "But we start here," Erik says. "We gather here. We start from a position of strength, and we lead people back here, give them refuge, safety."

"If we gather here, we take the role models and leaders out of mixed communities, and mutant kids everywhere else manifest their abilities and have no one to turn to," Charles counters.

"Ever since I was a boy I've dreamed of having a place like this. When my mother and I moved from place to place, she promised me that someday we'd settle down among our own kind. That we'd be able to use our abilities openly, without fear of human retribution."

"I believe we can bring that dream to every mutant child. By building our local communities and working to make _every_ place safe that way. I don't think we can do that from here."

"We can bring them back here. We can go out, rescue any mutant that's in danger, that's in need," Brian says.

"Are you talking about taking mutant children away from their families?"

Brian rolls his eyes. "You're the mindreader. You know damn well that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about mutants who are being abused, mutants who are being hurt or neglected. You really think those kids deserve to be treated that way, when we could give them better homes?"

Charles keeps his hands still, his breathing steady, his voice even as he says, "Of course I believe children should be protected from any situation where they're in danger. But what you're saying sounds dangerously close to suggesting that we kidnap mutant children for their own good."

"If somebody's hurting a mutant kid, then you know what? I'm okay if they want to call it kidnapping. What matters to me is getting kids out of harm's way."

"That matters to me, too," Charles says. "But the problem with a default position of fight-the-system is that systems don't just happen; people create systems to solve problems. Existing Child Protective Services are flawed, but they've been developed to help children who may be in danger without surrendering their fate to a stranger's arbitrary, subjective decision to remove them from their families on the assumption that they'd be better off somewhere else."

"It doesn't have to be subjective," says Brian. "We should be using our gifts for this. Telepaths and empaths could tell whether kids were in bad situations and find out the truth about how far it goes and who's responsible."

"An honest telepath will tell you that we don't have access to the truth. We can read what people _think_ is true. That's all. People's thoughts are notoriously compromised, and even memories can be distorted, rewritten, even completely invented--"

"Are you saying kids make up being abused?"

"No, the opposite is far more likely-- that some children minimize their ordeals in their thoughts and memories as a way to cope with the trauma. And with no reliable way to be sure what these kids are going through, no oversight, no _system,_ it's going to fall to individual would-be rescuers and their own biases to decide which homes are good enough for mutant kids. There's no one I would trust to do that ad hoc and with no supervision or peer review, including myself."

Brian crosses his arms over his chest, looking sourly at Charles. "So what I'm getting from you is that you don't want mutant kids slipping through the cracks, but you're not willing to help when they're in trouble. You don't want us to 'abandon' mutant kids in places other than Mill Point, but while they're out there alone and defenseless, you've got no interest in actually lifting a finger--" Brian lifts his fingertips to his temple, recalling Charles's typical gesture-- "to help. Now that I think about it, the Xavier Foundation slings a lot of money around, but does it ever actually help anybody one-on-one?"

"Most of our funding goes to education and outreach," Charles answers. "We're connecting mutant kids with mutant mentors every day."

"But when was the last time you sat down with a mutant who needed you?" Erik asks quietly. "When was the last time you volunteered for tutoring, or worked one-on-one with other psionic mutants? Most of the volunteering I do is at Helix, and Brian's right, it doesn't make any sense to pull me out of there if I'm only going to be making appearances at charity dinners and spending all my time with the wealthy New York set. Where's the nearest mutant youth program to where you live in Manhattan?"

At least Charles can answer that, though the rest of Erik's accusations sting. "MYONY," he says, "Mutant Youth of New York. It's a short ride on the 6 train. It's a big program, over ninety young mutants use their services every month. And I donated heavily to them last year. Not just money," he says, before Brian can get a word in. "Books, supplies. Time. I've helped set up for their monthly events since I moved to New York."

"Helix works with MYONY sometimes," Brian says. "And those of us in the MSP, we'd keep our ties to whatever mutants can't join us right away. But when you have the choice between being surrounded by people who hate you for who you are, and being surrounded by your own kind, who'd make the choice to stay?"

"Anyone who cares about seeing mutant acceptance grow in every community, not just Mill Point. Look, we're not entirely at odds here, Brian. But why is it so important to pull everyone out of their homes, why do we have to be concentrated in one place? One of the most long-standing fears about the Registration Act is that it would lead to discrimination that might go as far as forcing mutants into separate housing, separate communities, but now we're talking about ostracising ourselves, doing the bigots' work for them. If you're so certain that baseline humans are too hostile to live with, why aren't you worried that after we gather in one place, humans might cut off an all-mutant society from everything else? Or, God forbid, attack us."

"That's why I haven't signed," someone says, near the other end of the table. "I think that's _exactly_ what the humans would do."

A conversation about that erupts down at that side of the table, one that Charles wishes desperately he could participate in and de-escalate-- he didn't actually intend to derail the discussion by adding to paranoia about human governments. 

But Brian's still doggedly on the original topic, telling Charles, "Look, okay, you want to keep doing outreach outside of Maine, that's fine. Hell, if you and Erik are both into outreach, we'll need people doing that, too. Reaching out to those kids when they manifest in unsafe homes and bringing them to safety here, that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do."

"It is," Erik tries to agree, but Charles shakes his head vehemently.

"Someone with roots in a child's community could be familiar enough with them and their situation to know they're mutants and identify when they're not safe, but if we're all based in Maine, how do you propose we _find_ mutant kids elsewhere who need help? Is it part of the separatist plan to have kids tested for the X-gene and track them til they manifest? Because I think I've heard that one somewhere before."

"Oh, no, you did _not_ just go there--"

"No, he did, but that's just it," another, Eileen, cuts in. "Everybody's always protesting the Registration Act, but you know what? _Let_ the humans pass the fucking thing, it's more honest anyway-- and then we can use it to gather our people together."

"No, absolutely not," Erik snaps. "If they start off with identification, we know where that ends. There's no way we can be fast enough to save everyone. We're so outnumbered that it almost won't matter what we do, short of wiping out humanity; it won't matter what powers we have, or how many Omega-level mutants we have on our side. If they force everyone to identify emselves, we're going to see hate crimes escalate before we can do anything to protect those who are most in need. And one human law will only lead to a thousand others. None of them good."

Finally, common ground. "I agree," Charles reaches out and takes Erik's hand again, squeezing hard. He's relieved when Erik squeezes back. "I believe in fostering ties between mutants and looking out for each other," Charles says. "Not for the sole reason of protection. For education, too. There's no telling what the right words at the right time can do for people. Mutants everywhere need inspiration. We need support everywhere, we need to build up our local communities and networks everywhere, because not enough of us can break all ties and pick up and move to Mill Point. We need to bring the safety and support of Mill Point to every mutant, so nobody gets left behind."

"Hear, hear," Marvin says, rapping his spoon on the table, and although people stare at him a bit-- it was a rather weak, desperate attempt to close out the conversation and get people off this volatile topic-- it's enough of a pressure break to settle down Brian and Charles, letting things simmer down to an uncomfortable détente.

Unfortunately, dinner doesn't get much better after that. Though people keep talking civilly enough, it's strained on all sides. All those minds in a clamor of frustration, many of them resentfully aware that Charles knows how they feel, and with relatively few other minds in range to drown them out... the mental cacophony gets to Charles, eventually, and he puts a hand on Erik's shoulder.

«I'm getting a migraine,» he sends. «You don't have to go, you can get a ride back to the cabin or call Stuart to drive you, but I need to get some space and take something for this.»

«I'm coming with you, then.» Erik covers Charles's hand with his. «Can I have a few minutes to say my goodbyes?»

«Of course.»

Erik comes to his feet, and Brian looks up at him. "We're taking off," he tells Brian. "Sorry to cut the evening short."

Brian's eyes track to Charles, and the fresh burst of resentment Charles gets from him has him suppressing a wince. The headache is getting worse, and as guilty as Charles feels about pulling Erik away from his friends, he can't help being glad Erik is choosing him over a table full of separatists... some of whom edge uncomfortably close to mutant supremacy. And some of whom are entirely over that line.

But all Brian says is, "Okay," and he stands up, too, coming around the table to give Erik a hug. Erik says his goodbyes to everyone who seems to be a personal friend, promising a few of them that he'll see them back in Pittsburgh, and it doesn't escape Charles's notice that he shakes hands with a few others and promises a meetup _when he's in Manhattan_ , which lifts Charles's spirits minutely.

He could do without the warm hug Erik gives Marvin, but at least when it's over Erik comes back to him, slipping his hand into Charles's. «Ready,» he sends. «Come on.»

In the car, Erik asks, "Do you have something with you?"

"Something...?"

"For your head. I should have asked at the restaurant, I'm sure someone had some Excedrin if nothing else..."

"Psilavon is the only thing that really helps when it's like this. But it's all right." Charles rubs at his temples, closing his eyes. The pressure of Mill Point fades, little-by-little, as Erik gets them on the road. "I think we got out of there in time, it's getting better."

"Good." For a while, they're quiet together, and Charles is just starting to think the night might be salvageable after all... but something clips Erik's mood, and it takes a sudden jagged turn south.

"What?"

Erik doesn't answer; Charles sighs. "Erik, I can read your mood-- I can _feel_ you. You're obviously not happy, so what happened?"

"What happened?" Erik repeats. He glances over at Charles and then shakes his head. "I don't want to get into it. I'm sure your head hurts enough as it is."

Charles bristles at that. "I'm not incapacitated, and I'm perfectly capable of carrying on a rational discussion. Let's start with whatever got your hackles up, and go from there."

"You seemed to recover awfully fast, that's all. Once we were on the road."

"I did say you didn't have to come with me! What was I supposed to do-- wait until this was a full-blown migraine and lose our last day together to being sick, as well? No, thank you; I've had enough illness for the next few decades."

"It wasn't that bad," Erik protests.

" _Wasn't that bad?_ I finally get to see my bondmate again, and end up with food poisoning so severe I spend the better part of a week-- nearly half our time together!-- lying useless on a couch? You didn't come up here to be my nursemaid."

"I wasn't your nursemaid, I was your _partner_. I _am_ your partner."

"A partner who's having some sort of-- fit of pique, I can't quite tell."

"This isn't pique, Charles. You said you knew most of the mutants in Manhattan, but Eileen and Clive said they'd never met you."

"I said I've met a lot of people active in the Manhattan mutant community. Of course I don't know absolutely everyone."

"You don't know _anyone_ in MFMR. Except me, and my friends-- and you're not exactly trying to make them your friends, are you?"

Charles turns to face Erik. Erik's whole demeanor seems grim; he's tense, his emotions stark with resolve. "That's what this is really about, isn't it. Dinner. My arguments."

"Your arguments," Erik confirms. "I can't imagine how you can possibly believe that having ourselves spread so thin we're practically useless in most places is the ideal situation--"

"I didn't say that, I _don't_ think that." Charles frowns. "Were you listening to the actual words I said? I want more teachers, more outreach, more connection. But I don't think it's a good idea to for all the people who can afford to move to leave behind those who can't, or who won't. Think of all the mutant-human bonds we know. Do they choose to leave their mates, or does Brian's mutant utopia take in human partners, too? It certainly didn't sound like many of them would be enthusiastic about that idea."

"Considering what Jason's human soulmate was like, I think anyone who'd refuse to go might be better off left behind."

It's a slap in the face, the idea that Erik can so cavalierly say that some people would be better off if they left their bondmates behind-- but Charles takes a breath, counts to ten, and reminds himself that things were different for Erik, that he never left Charles, that it wasn't about leaving him behind.

"I don't know anything about Jason's soulmate. But there are plenty of people who have, or had, decent human soulmates. Even here in Mill Point-- John's soulmate was human."

"And where is he now?"

"John's a widower."

Erik flinches. Embarrassment, shame, guilt, all of them flood the bond, but when Charles reaches out to touch Erik's shoulder, it makes things worse, not better. Charles can tell that right away, if the way Erik shrugs him off doesn't make it plain. 

"The point is," Erik says, more quietly, "it's a nice idea, having more teachers and mentors, but a hell of a lot of people are armchair activists. Human allies don't have anything to lose by inaction, so that's most of what those people have to offer. A lot of words, the occasional attendance at a Mutant Pride Day-- and half of the humans who show up to that are there to gawk anyway."

"Then we find ways to encourage those people to step up," Charles says. "We create more programs matching mutants to mentors, we look for ways to bring humans and mutants together for a common purpose."

"You just can't admit you're wrong about any of this, can you?"

Charles stares at Erik. "I'm not answering that. It's a leading question, there's no correct response."

"Oh, that's clever. Declare there's no correct response, so you don't have to risk saying something that I might be able to shoot down."

All right, then, he'll risk it. "I've been listening to you all night long," Charles says. "You, Brian, Marvin, all your friends. But the fact of the matter is, I don't find your arguments persuasive. You see baseline humanity as this enormous threat to mutantkind; I don't think it's realistic to differentiate between humans and mutants over the long term."

"You don't think it's realistic to _differentiate_?" They're at the cabin now, pulling into the long gravel driveway; Erik cuts the engine and gets out of the car, throwing the passenger door open for Charles as well. It's a little more aggressive than it needs to be, the door bounces as it hits the fullest part of its swing, but Charles is in just as much of a hurry to get out and make their way into the warm cabin as Erik is. He hears the doors close behind him and senses Erik's anger-fueled use of his ability, and once they're inside, Charles takes stock of Erik again.

He's still tense. Frustrated. Even angry. But there's something more, under all that. Something familiar.

He doesn't have time to work out what it is, because Erik's going on, "If it's so unrealistic to differentiate between humans and mutants, then would you rather be a baseline?"

"I said over the long term," Charles says. "And what I mean by that is, more and more mutants are being born to baseline parents, recognizing with baseline humans, having children with humans and each other. Latents and carriers are everywhere. Given enough time, we'll all carry some of the X-gene in us. We can't afford to alienate humans because they _are_ the future, just as we are. Today's humans are tomorrow's latents. The X-gene isn't going anywhere."

"Don't you see, though-- I can't wait that long. None of us can afford to wait that long. We can't give it fifty, a hundred years to get better. We need real change, real progress, and we need it _now_ , not in our great-grandchildren's generation."

There it is again, that shift, the familiar feeling that Charles is only now certain he's recognizing correctly. It's desire... no, even the word desire implies more nuance than Charles is currently reading from Erik. What he's getting from Erik is _want_ , deep and heavy.

While they're arguing...? It doesn't make any sense.

"Then we work for it now, but we don't do it by abandoning the human world. We do it by showing them we're here and we aren't going anywhere."

"They know. They know we're here. They just don't give a damn. Humans are going to fight against giving us our rights, tooth and nail, for as long as there _are_ still humans-- and I hope you're right about the X-gene and the future. Maybe the humans would understand why what they're doing is so wrong, if they could spend a day in our shoes. Or-- mobility devices, whatever accommodations we need."

"Maybe they would. But as there's no way for the X-gene to become transmissible by coughs or contact or avian infection, the only way to put them in our shoes is to talk to them. Educate them. Convince them to listen, and help them understand us."

Charles can sense strain in Erik, something that feels like pent-up yearning, as powerful now as it was the day they were reunited here in Mill Point. If this were any other conversation, Charles would make the first move, kissing him, touching him. But not while they're angry at each other. He can't see anything good coming of that.

Erik steps forward, his chin tilted up in challenge. " _I_ don't understand you right now," he says. "How do you expect to make humans listen if you can't make me listen?"

Something about the way he says that, the way he feels now... _make_ him listen. _Make me..._

The instant Charles realizes what it could be, it's so obvious he can't believe he missed it before. He's known submissives who act out in order to get what they want, and submissives who swell up so they can be knocked down-- but that was never something Erik wanted, never the kind of game Erik played, not even at his most gorgeously submissive moments. Erik isn't the sort of sub who'd goad his top into putting him down hard.

And yet he's pushing, challenging Charles, his mind and emotions thick with passion and need, his body language an offer and a dare all at once, clear enough even Charles can see it, now that he's looking for it. His chin is tilted, and Charles was seeing that as Erik taking a stance against Charles's arguments... but that tilt shows throat, too, if Charles would only reach out and take it. Erik's shoulders are tight, but his wrists are slightly behind him, and it would be easy to lock his wrists together with one hand at the small of Erik's back.

"I don't think you want me to make you _listen_ ," Charles says, carefully and evenly.

Erik flushes at that, his eyes flashing. They stay on Charles's, Erik isn't backing down... but he isn't denying it, either.

This feels so dangerous, like playing with fire. Charles has done a few mock-anger scenes, but this isn't mock... then again, all that anger isn't directed at Charles, precisely, either. As Charles looks into Erik's eyes, sifting through the complicated emotions Erik's driving across the bond, he can sense more to it than just simple frustration. It's as if that anger is a match being lit, and now that flame needs somewhere to go.

If he's wrong about this... if he's wrong about what Erik wants, what Erik needs right now, he could hurt Erik with a scene like this. This could be the kind of mistake they'd both spend days regretting. It could ruin the rest of their trip together.

Or it could be exactly what his soulmate is asking for, and Charles could give it to him.

One last stall for time. "You're not going to antagonize me into getting what you want," Charles warns.

He feels impatience pulsing through the bond. Erik steps in, closing the gap between them, his chest pressed to Charles's. "What makes you think you know what I want?"

"I know you." He's right; he's sure now. He puts a hand on Erik's shoulder, not pushing, just resting it there. If Erik truly wants Charles to put him down, Charles knows by now that it won't take more than that.

Erik folds beautifully to the floor, his hands slipping behind his back. Charles draws in a long breath, taking in Erik's emotions as fully as he can. The anger's mostly gone, but Erik's taut with anticipation now, almost vibrating with impatience. But what does he _need_? What can Charles give him?

What is he allowed to take... more and more, that's what's going through Charles's mind. Nothing has ever gotten to him the way this sight does: Erik, on his knees, choosing to be there and challenging Charles to step into this scene with him. Whatever their differences, they're in this together now.

He strokes a hand back over Erik's hair, stopping just shy of soul's-home. If he'd gone that far, if he could take that gesture for granted, it would be one of those classic dom's signals, something that puts a claim on Erik. But he can claim Erik in other ways, maybe ones that aren't as full of orientation-specific significance.

"Beautiful," he whispers. He puts his hand at Erik's nape and reels him in, so his face presses against Charles's thigh. "Why don't you tell me what you want, darling."

Erik's shoulders move with every breath, each exhalation hot against Charles's skin. «I want...» Charles feels insecurity from him as his thoughts dissipate. Nervous, now? When he's so stunning he makes Charles want nothing more than to ensure Erik gets everything he needs, that it's good enough to keep him offering this, again and again?

But Charles of all people knows that submission isn't always easy-- even people who have no issues with their submissive orientation can struggle with it, he teaches that in his 100-level concordance classes, and certainly it's a challenge for his unoriented bondmate. «I have you,» Charles sends, giving Erik a strong sense of solid confidence along with the words. Whatever Erik's willing to offer, Charles will be grateful for it, will _love_ it. His hand moves up to rest over Erik's joining spot. «Do you need to hear it from me first? What I want-- how much I want it? What it does to me, to see you like this? How much I want to take your mouth, bend you over the bed and have you, nothing keeping you there but your own desire, your hands held willingly behind your back, just like that...»

Erik moans aloud, shakily. His mouth opens wide, and he presses a hot kiss to Charles's thigh. Whatever conflict was in Erik before, it's gone now, as he sends, «I want you to. I want you to _take_ me, Charles. I want you to _put me down_.» Charles feels the tension in Erik's body, his forehead moving minutely back and forth across Charles's trousers, the flutter of his eyelashes against thin wool. « _Please_.»

If anything could move Charles more than that word, sent mind-to-mind by this man, he can't imagine what it would be. He can do this; he can go here, with his bondmate, his partner-- a man who needs him, who needs Charles to take control right now. A man who's begging Charles to _put him down_. Everything about those words gets Charles hard, and when he eases Erik back, he watches Erik's eyes widen as he sees the outline of Charles's cock under his trousers. He watches as Erik licks his lips, his mouth still open as he stares. And he hears Erik's moan when Charles undoes his belt, flashing the inside of his wrist as he undoes his fly with steady, quick motions. 

He only takes down his trousers and boxers far enough to bring his cock out, but that's a relief; he was hard enough to feel bound up in there, and if someone in this room is going to endure cock bondage, Charles knows who he'd prefer it to be.

His hand rests around the base of his cock, and this moment, the moment when Erik wants it so much it's nearly a tangible force in the room, the moment when Charles can see Erik swaying slightly forward, it's one Charles wants to experience forever. But even more than that, he wants to feel Erik's mouth around his cock-- he wants to feel what Erik feels, when he finally gets to taste Charles's arousal and the pre-come beading at the tip-- and so he tells Erik, _tells_ him, "Suck me."

That's all Erik needed. Gratitude flows through their bond in a near-tidal wave, and Charles barely holds himself steady as Erik swallows Charles's cock down. Inch by inch, he takes Charles in, pressing his mouth as far down Charles's shaft as he can, until he chokes. The moment's pressure nearly does Charles in, but it isn't only that-- it's the way Erik draws back enough for a breath, then dives in for more, choking himself again. He can feel it in Erik, the need to do more, give more-- the way even this isn't enough. «Please,» Erik sends. «Charles, please.»

Charles tightens his grip on the back of Erik's neck, hissing softly as he rocks out-- and then back in again, rough against Erik's lips, feeling them tight around him. Erik surrenders to the motion, his neck lengthening slightly under Charles's grip, his throat stretching into a straighter line. It's so good it's almost maddening. «Oh, there, that's it, love...»

Nearly trembling now, against Charles's body, under his hand, Erik's just sending wave after wave of need through the bond. «Charles, please. _Please_.» But he isn't getting lost on his knees; Charles can feel it, he's coming up enough to ask for something more, to _demand_ it. «Don't hold back. Don't you dare hold back now.»

Any last sense that there was a wall between them shatters. This evening's disagreements, they don't matter; all that matters is this, here, now. Charles licks his lips and rubs Erik's joining spot, cupping him firmly there and letting himself have this, fucking Erik's mouth, gasping every time he shoves against Erik's tongue and throat. _Don't hold back,_ Erik told him, so Charles doesn't-- he opens his mind and shares it with Erik, the way he's reveling in this, the way the sight of Erik on his knees is nearly enough to get Charles off right here and now.

They're connected, they're joined, their minds touching each other every bit as deeply as their bodies are. Erik's thoughts are bursting with pleasure, his gorgeous lean body is taut with desire and held still for Charles, no matter how badly he's aching to be touched. Charles can feel how right this is for Erik-- oh, God, the relief from that nearly leaves Charles weak in the knees. Charles's cock driving into Erik's mouth again and again is perfect for Erik, so good, so hot, and with every mental sign of encouragement, Charles gives him more. No holding back, not for either of them. Erik needs this, he needs to submit, and Charles needs to take him.

« _Yours_ ,» Erik sends.

Charles can feel it in him: Erik's greedy for more, for all of this. His own sense of possessive satisfaction saturates the thought he sends in return: «Mine.» He shares what he's taking away from this: the sight of Erik like this, nearly too much to take in, and yet Charles couldn't bear to stop looking, not for more than an eyeblink. Erik's blissed-out face and full mouth, his incredible body galvanized, his hands held behind his back-- he isn't cuffed, he's _choosing_ to offer his submission to Charles, and an even bigger thrill races through Charles at that. And the feel of him, God, his beautiful mouth tight around Charles's cock, sucking him, demanding more and more with every solid thrust-- Charles may lose part of his sanity to this scene, but it's worth it.

« _Yes_ , Charles!» Erik shoves forward, making little desperate sounds as Charles keeps up the rhythm, keeps fucking his throat, another hard thrust and another. « _This_. I want this, I want _you_ , I want _us_ , I want to give you this, let me give you this...»

It's so easy now; they're moving together, their bodies completely in sync. «I want everything. I want to feel you swallow around me while I come, I want to come on you, I want to wait and fuck you instead--»

« _Everything_.» Was Erik truly nervous at the beginning of all this? He feels so confident now, so certain of himself-- and of Charles, of the two of them together. «We can have it all, we can have everything, _we can have this_ , just let me give myself to you, I want to give myself to you, my submission, Charles, it's _yours_ , it's just for you, it's only _ever_ been for you--»

"Oh, God, Erik--" Charles can't keep from shouting it, and he can't hold back any longer. He thrusts in deep and comes with a low, heartfelt moan, absurdly, desperately in love.

A bit of Charles's come spills over the corner of Erik's mouth, but it doesn't make Erik pull back; he just drags himself forward again, and with Charles's cock softening in his mouth, he can take every inch of him, his nose buried against Charles's short curls.

«I love you...»

«I love you. Oh, look at you.» Charles strokes Erik's cheek and runs his thumb over the semen on his face, a little mesmerized. _His_. Erik's his.

Finally, Erik draws back, and he has a sly look and feel about him as he licks his lips, more than a little extravagantly. The motion feels so familiar that Charles reaches into Erik's memory for its inspiration-- and he's amused and gratified to realize that Erik learned that from _him_.

«Oh, that was _good_ ,» Erik sends. He rolls his neck, his shoulders, and Charles immediately leans down to help Erik to his feet. Erik lets Charles take a little of his weight, but not much; soon enough, Erik's got his arms around Charles, the two of them holding each other.

«You feel steady,» Charles sends tentatively. «Everything all right, darling?»

Erik nods. "Yeah," he says-- croaks, really. They both grin, hearing it. «But I want to get into bed, and I want something done about this, too.» He takes Charles's hand and rests it over his cock-- oh, yes, he's still hard, he didn't go over when Charles did.

Charles gives Erik's cock an affectionate squeeze and leans forward to put his lips at Erik's ear. "Absolutely," he breathes. "Come on."

It doesn't take any time at all for both of them to strip out of their clothes and climb into bed. Charles presses Erik down on his back, his hand on Erik's chest, and Erik wraps his arms around Charles's shoulders, leaning up for a kiss. Charles gives it to him, but asks, «What do you want?» He nips at Erik's lower lip. «How do you want me to bring you off?»

«Like this,» Erik answers, one hand moving to Charles's, bringing both their hands to his cock and curling Charles's fingers around his shaft. «Keep kissing me, don't stop...»

«I won't stop,» Charles promises, though he slows down, nearly into teasing range. Mouth and hand, both, setting a pace that quickly has Erik growling with impatience. He definitely hasn't fallen; whatever else this trip has done, it's gotten Erik to a point where he can beg Charles to put him down in one scene, and be demanding about his needs in the next. That only turns Charles on more, making him climb half on top of Erik as he keeps stroking Erik's cock. «I love your mouth,» he sends, his tongue licking softly against Erik's. «I love the way you let me in, the way you kiss me.»

«Yes, Charles... yes,» Erik answers, thrusting forward into Charles's hand. «Yes, so good, yes...» He opens up a little more, giving Charles's lips and tongue room to taste, explore. It's Charles's kiss now, Charles taking over, and he dives in, lets himself have Erik as thoroughly as he can with that kiss, coaxing moan after moan out of him and swallowing up the sounds.

«Mine,» Charles sends. There's no way to deny the possessive feeling that runs through him with the word, but Erik just grabs Charles by the shoulders and pulls him closer, one of his legs coming up so his thigh can cradle Charles's hip. If Charles were hard again, he'd pin Erik flat and take him, show Erik just how much he means that 'mine', but for now it'll be this, just this, Erik's gorgeous thick cock in Charles's hand, Erik's mouth given to Charles in every possible way tonight.

«Charles... _Charles_ , yes,» Erik sends. He's gasping now, his hips working, thrusting into Charles's hand. Charles breaks away from the kiss for just a moment in order to lick his palm, and then he's touching Erik again, the slight hint of slickness making his strokes that much better for Erik. But he can read Erik for what he likes, too, get the feedback from their bond and Erik's mind, know exactly how to touch Erik and for how long. He can hold Erik on the edge, make him shudder and shiver, make him lose all sense of time through this-- one hand, Charles's mouth on his, and Charles can _own_ him.

Not quite the egalitarian scene Charles thought this was going to be-- but when every motion, every feeling, every thought in Erik's head is urging him on, it's impossible to regret that. And it would be nearly impossible in any case; there's no one Charles has ever desired like this before, no one he's so desperately needed to have underneath him the way Erik is right now.

«Please, please, _please_ , Charles, please, I need you, I _need_ you, please,» the words are spilling out of Erik's mind, until it's just a blistering sense of urgency. All those beautiful thoughts, nothing could be more electrifying than Erik begging him over and over, Erik telling Charles _I need you._

«I'm here, darling... I have you, trust me, I'm here for you,» Charles sends, and he waits for the moment when Erik truly can't think anymore, when he's lost to everything but the need to come-- and holds him there, his hand working Erik's cock just right, drinking in every one of Erik's wordless groans. If he trusted himself to use his ability a little more, he could make this moment feel endless-- he could _make_ this moment endless, he could hold Erik on the edge until Erik was inside out with his own need-- but he knows better, he knows those are impulses better left in fantasy, and so he steals one more kiss and twists his wrist quickly in a last long spiraling stroke and makes Erik come, makes him scream with his release. Erik shudders underneath Charles through all of it, and he's beautiful, perfect, everything Charles has ever dreamed of.

He rests his head on Erik's chest as they both come down from it, and lets Erik stroke his hair.

If they disagree on everything else, there's this. They still have this. Charles wants that to be more comforting than it actually is.

\---

Somewhere in Erik's subconscious, he's thinking about Charles... of course it's Charles, because it's someone's gorgeously expert mouth around his cock. _All_ around his cock. Erik used to think deepthroating only happened in porn, but Charles has proven otherwise over and over again.

In Erik's dream, Charles is on his knees, eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner, dressed up in a mesh shirt and leather jeans, and... oh God, what's that around his neck, what _is_ that, why is Erik even thinking about his dominant in a _collar_?

He comes awake with a jolt, but the pleasure doesn't stop there. When he blinks enough to clear his vision, he sees Charles's head moving, Charles's dark hair cascading over his forehead. «Oh my God,» Erik sends fuzzily, «that's amazing, please don't stop, _please_.»

He feels a mental purr in return from Charles. «When you say 'please' like that, don't worry, you'll get what you want.»

Whatever possessed Charles to take a chance and wake Erik up this way, Erik's glad for it. He settles back down against the pillows and just lets Charles please him-- it feels a bit uneven, letting Charles do this for him, but he'll make up for it later. Obviously it's that sense of inequity that inspired his dream, and now that he's awake, he can see this for what it actually is-- Charles rewarding Erik for their fantastic scene last night, rewarding Erik for begging well.

At least that's one thing he's learned with Charles-- how to beg, and how to mean it. The truth is, he doesn't even really think of it as a skill he learned... begging Charles comes by instinct, and Charles seems to love it. One less thing to worry about.

Erik thought he was good last night, but Charles's mouth is unbelievable. When Erik just lets himself take in this pleasure, he's on the edge at an instant-- and Charles knows it, of course, Charles can feel it in Erik's mind and body. «How long could you stay like this?» Charles sends. «If I asked you not to come...»

«Oh, God, Charles, I don't know.» Orgasm control still isn't Erik's best skill, but Charles seems to love it when he can make Erik hold off. Erik's going to have to practice this when he's back in Pittsburgh.

He's _not_ thinking about Pittsburgh, not right now.

«Try for me,» Charles encourages him.

«I will!»

He does his best, he wants to please Charles _so much_ , but hovering there on the edge leaves him desperate, his hands twisting in the sheets. «Charles, please... _please_ , I need you, please, please, oh God, please don't make me wait, please, I can't, I _can't_!»

«If you're sure...»

Erik bites down hard on his lower lip. «A little more, I can take a little more for you. Please, Charles...»

Charles pins Erik's hips down and speeds up, his head bobbing, his shoulders tensing and releasing with each thrust downward. God, he's beautiful-- Erik never even dreamed his soulmate could be as beautiful as Charles is, and all that strength and dominance, that's for _him_ , that's for Erik alone, Charles isn't going back to New York to fool around--

\--he's not thinking about New York, either.

«Charles, please. Please!» Now Erik's as close to the edge as he thinks he can get, he's sure he's going to come any second-- but Charles keeps going, and he hasn't said to come yet. Erik rocks up against Charles's hold, and he doesn't move much, but it helps to make even the slightest bit of motion. «Please! Charles, please, I need to, please, say I can, tell me I can, please--»

Charles looks up at him, eyes wide, and then sucks _hard_. «You can,» he sends. «Come, Erik.»

Thank God thank _God_... Erik groans, louder and louder as the orgasm crests and then rushes out of him, every sense overloaded with pleasure. By the time he's finished, he's wrung out, exhausted, his throat aching from the cries he let out, and Charles... Charles swallows it all down, finally drawing off Erik's cock and kissing his thigh.

When he looks up at Erik, he looks smug. That's fine. He has every right to be.

"You're incredible," Erik gasps, reaching down to stroke Charles's hair. "God. What can I do for you?"

«Oh, darling, you've already done so much for me-- can't you tell...?» Charles comes up the bed, stretching out over Erik's body, and kisses him thoroughly, letting Erik taste his come on Charles's tongue. Charles is still hard, his cock perfect and thick against Erik's stomach, but he doesn't seem in any hurry to stop kissing Erik-- and Erik doesn't want him to move, anyway. He wraps his arms around Charles's shoulders, then spreads his legs and draws them up, wrapping them around Charles's hips. He's not letting Charles go _anywhere_.

«I want you,» Charles sends, his hands coming up to pin Erik's wrists. «Can I have you, darling, like this, can I...?» His hand is on Erik's bracelet, and Erik tilts his head up, bares his throat for Charles.

«Please, yes,» Erik sends-- though there's no way that mental tone can be considered begging. That's a demand, it just happens to be coming out with the word 'please'. «Do it, Charles-- I want your marks, more of them, _now_ , give them to me!»

He hasn't been unmarked since he got here, and Charles bites down, sucks up a mark that ensures Erik won't go back to Pittsburgh without visible evidence of Charles's claim on him. Erik doesn't want to give these marks a chance to fade-- he wants Charles back before everything's fully healed, and that means seeing Charles again soon. A month is too much. Two weeks might be too much, now. Erik rocks his hips up and turns his head to the side, encouraging Charles to leave a matching mark on the other side of his neck.

Charles's grip on his wrists is tight, and there might be bruises there, too-- Erik's neck and his wrists and his hips and his shoulders, marks on his inner thighs where Charles has bitten him, on his ass where Charles managed to leave a hint of a bruise during his last spanking. All that, the amazing blowjob Charles just gave him, the way Charles put Erik on the floor last night, and here Erik is, still greedy for more. «Yes. Damn it, _yes_ , more, give it to me, Charles, _more_!»

One of Erik's wrists is free, suddenly, and Erik nearly protests before he realizes why. Charles reaches for the nightstand, grabs the lube, and as Erik grins up at him, Charles slicks his fingers one-handed, never losing his grip on Erik's other wrist. He presses his fingers into Erik's ass, slicking him up, but they both know Erik doesn't need very much-- it's good when it's rough, when it's Charles, when Charles is so hot for him that he doesn't want to spare much time for prep.

And Erik has him just that way now. He slips his other hand underneath the one Charles has pinned, letting Charles get a grip on both wrists with that one hand-- Charles laughs, his expression sly and fond all at once-- and then Charles helps him get his knees drawn to his chest, and oh God, yes, Erik has to close his eyes and moan aloud when Charles presses inside of him. Even after all the time he's spent getting fucked-- not to mention the Eleven, and yes, they need to find time to play with that the next time they see each other-- feeling Charles push into him makes him gasp every time, ready to take it but always convinced for a moment that it's going to be too much.

«Yes...»

«Oh, Erik, look at you, just _look_ \-- you're so beautiful, and you're mine, all mine, this is all for me-- tell me-- just me--»

Erik looks up at Charles and nods, almost laughing now. Charles is stretched out above him, cock pumping into him, Erik's wearing his bruises-- there's not a sub in the world who could feel more claimed than Erik does at this moment. «Just you, only you,» Erik promises-- and the delight must carry over through the bond, or straight to Charles's mind, because Charles beams down at Erik, smiling at him with love and fondness and _still_ fucking him so hard Erik's going to squirm all the way back to Pittsburgh. «Only you. Yours, Charles.»

« _Mine_.» Erik can almost hear the growl in Charles's mind, and he shows throat a little more, encouraging that growl. Charles lets out a slightly frustrated noise, bending down-- no, there's no way he can stretch far enough to bite another bruise onto Erik's neck, but he reaches out and strokes his fingertips over one of the marks he left last night, or the day before. Right now, Erik's body is showing that he belongs to Charles in every imaginable way, and the only thing that could show it more is if there were a collar around his throat.

Soon. They'll get there soon.

«You're mine, Erik. All mine. I can mark you, inside, come in you, do you want that? Tell me you want it--»

«Yes! Yes, I want it, of course I want it, do it, Charles, please, come in me, come inside me, please, please--»

"Beautiful," Charles gasps out loud-- _this_ , Erik under him, and he thinks it's beautiful. Erik strains up against him, trying to take more, give Charles his body that much more completely, and Charles responds by bracing his free hand on Erik's chest and pinning him again. «Beautiful, and _mine_.»

«Yes, yours, _yours_! Charles, please, please, do it, please, mark me--»

He doesn't know if it's the begging or the thought of being marked that finally does it for Charles, but suddenly he's there, head thrown back, sweat coming down from his temples, his body snapping forward as he buries his cock in Erik's ass one last time and comes. The cords in his neck stand out for a long moment, and Erik wishes he could touch them, nibble and lick and bite, trace the line down to Charles's shoulder and... God, Charles is beautiful, all those freckles, everything about him, and he's _Erik's_.

When Charles finally collapses on him, Erik wriggles both arms free and wraps them around Charles's shoulders. «Yours,» he sends. «Definitely, _definitely_ yours.»

Charles doesn't send back words exactly-- more of a mental sound or thought or idea that implies _mmhmph_ \-- but Erik understands him anyway. He strokes Charles's messy hair and holds on, and if Charles feels like falling asleep just like this, well, Erik won't have any objections to that at all.

\---

Erik's phone buzzes while they're still holding each other, and he sighs, waving a hand at the nightstand. His phone floats up, and he checks his email-- something from Brian. He doesn't even bother opening the message; he just drops the phone on the nightstand with a clatter.

«I feel that,» Charles sends, reaching back to stroke Erik's joining spot. «Something wrong?»

«Brian,» Erik sends in return. «Screw it. I can talk to him back in Pittsburgh. I'm here with you now.» Charles strokes Erik's joining spot some more, and Erik murmurs out a pleased noise and rubs back against Charles's palm. «I like that.»

«I can tell,» Charles sends. Erik doesn't have to have his eyes open to know that Charles is smiling down at him. But a moment later, Erik does open his eyes, because Charles is still watching him-- and now the smile's gone.

Erik reaches up and strokes Charles's cheek. «We'll be together again soon, Charles.»

«How soon? I don't have plans this weekend,» Charles jokes. If it is a joke, which Erik can't be sure about. «Erik... if I said I could stay in Mill Point for a while... a month or two...»

Erik's heart leaps. «Could you?» A month or two, they could start there. Surely after two months here, he could convince Charles that this is where they were meant to be. They were always meant to be here, always meant to teach other mutants, it could be the start of so many good things for them.

«I think... maybe...» Charles finally looks away, shaking his head. «But it wouldn't just be temporary for you, would it? You'd want to stay for good.»

«Why can't we?» Erik sits up and takes one of Charles's hands in both of his. «Is it really the Thai food? I'll learn to make it at home.»

Charles smiles at him again, for an instant, but then he's shaking his head. «No, it isn't that. I'm afraid I'm not fit for small-town life.» He gestures at his temple. «I know it's counter-intuitive, but a small town can be more difficult for telepathy. In a city, there are so many minds that I can't usually pick up the thoughts of any single consciousness without actively trying. I rarely worry about infringing anyone's privacy because unless someone's physically close to me, it's an effort to focus on any one mind. It's like overhearing conversations. In a crowded room, it's hard to eavesdrop, but when there aren't many people around, it's hard _not_ to overhear.»

«But that's not your fault,» Erik begins.

Already Charles is shaking his head again. «It's not about whose fault it is. I need the background noise. Like those white noise machines people get for their offices sometimes, to drown out irritating sounds, construction and whatnot. Here, every time someone's emotions run high, I feel like a hunting dog being put on point. It's distracting, and it's tiring.»

Erik squeezes Charles's hand-- finally, something he can understand. He nods slowly and lifts Charles's hand to his lips, turning it so he can place a kiss in the center of Charles's palm. «Then we won't stay here,» he sends. «You deserve a better life than that.»

Charles is starry-eyed for a few seconds as he looks at Erik, but then shakes it off and sends, «If you really needed to be here--»

«But I don't,» Erik sends. He says it again, out loud: "I don't. You said you thought we could build community and brotherhood for mutants everywhere-- I have that in Pittsburgh, I _know_ I could find it in New York. What sort of mutant would I be if I asked my own soulmate to settle for a life where his ability is a hindrance instead of a natural part of his world? I'd never ask that of you."

The corners of Charles's mouth turn down. "Erik... my ability..."

«It's beautiful,» Erik sends, bringing his hands up to Charles's temples. «I love it. And I love you.»

Charles takes Erik's hands in his and lowers them. "There's something about my mutation I should tell you."

Erik blinks at him. "Oh?" It never would have occurred to him that there was more about Charles's ability than he already knew-- but what if Charles's ability is getting stronger, just like Erik's has been? What if he's really regaining it, after all this time? No wonder he doesn't want to stay in Mill Point; the stronger his ability is, the worse small towns likely are for him. Next time they're together, Erik will be sure it's somewhere easier for Charles, somewhere his mind will have plenty of background noise. Maybe it's time for him to see New York again--

"Erik, it's not-- it isn't good news." Charles sucks in a breath and then just lets the words go. "I'm on Psychitrex."

_Oh, God, no._ It's the first thing Erik thinks, and he hopes Charles didn't overhear it. But so much for that. When they're together, he's always said he has no secrets from Charles, and he's always meant it. "Charles--"

"It's all right, I'm all right. You said yourself that-- your friend, Marvin, he's on it too, didn't you say that?"

"Because he couldn't function without it," Erik says, reaching out for Charles, wrapping his arms around Charles's waist. "Oh, God, Charles, are you all right?"

Charles is stiff in Erik's arms, but slowly rests his chin on Erik's shoulder and puts his arms around Erik's back. "Yes, of course," he murmurs. "I'm fine, Erik. I'm fine now."

"But Psychitrex." Erik squeezes his eyes shut, hard, trying to hold back all the things he's feeling and thinking now-- panic, fear, guilt. "You didn't need it when we were young."

"I wasn't on it when we were young," Charles corrects. "I don't know if I needed it then. I didn't try, not until recently."

Erik pulls back to look into Charles's eyes. "Recently? What happened recently?" _Oh, God._ If this is because of him-- if this is because of _them_ , because of being together again-- he doesn't know how his mutation could be causing damage to Charles, but his has been getting stronger, what if it's feedback, what if every time his mutation grows stronger it's _hurting_ Charles? _Please, no, please not that--_

His early life was shaped by his mother's search for his father. Jakob Lehnsherr left them because his mutation disrupted their lives more and more, his power blowing lights, popping fuses, shorting out circuits. Rather than asking them to leave civilization behind with him, he just disappeared. 

For years, Erik didn't understand why. Edie could control machines, while Jakob's power destroyed them, but Edie could have commuted into the city to work and to use her ability; she was willing. It wasn't until his mother was gone and it was too late to ask that it occurred to Erik that Jakob might have left them because of Erik-- because Jakob's power might've conflicted with Erik's sensitivity to electromagnetism.

His family legacy of mutation has always meant so much to him, but if this painful history is repeating itself...

"Erik! Erik, calm down. Calm down, darling, it's all right, I'm fine, I'm _fine_ , love." Charles hugs Erik tightly again, stroking Erik's hair, cupping him at soul's-home. «I promise, Erik. I'm fine now. Everything's all right.»

«But you need it,» Erik sends, clinging to Charles, hoping he isn't hurting Charles more, sending thoughts. «Is it my fault, did I do this to you?»

«What? Erik, no, of course not, how could you?» Charles kisses his cheek, keeps holding him at soul's-home. «It's not because of you or anything you've done.»

Charles's presence and his touch slowly calm Erik down, until he can think about this more rationally. If Erik's powers have been growing stronger... then what if it's been the same for Charles? What if there were doctors who _told_ him to... he remembers that dream all too well, the one they shared, the doctors who told Charles's parents to isolate him as a boy. «Then... tell me why,» Erik sends. «Did someone make you do this, _tell_ you to do this?»

«No. Erik, I promise, it's my choice. I was having migraines.» Charles kisses Erik's cheek. «My ability did get a little stronger, after we... reconnected.» After Sebastian died, he means. «And although Psilavon helps when the headaches get particularly bad, it isn't meant for long-term use. Psychitrex made more sense, and it's helped me.»

Erik draws back and touches Charles's temple again, feather-light. «It's all right now?»

«Yes, Erik.» Charles tries for a smile, and while it's weak, it's reassuring anyway. «Everything's all right now.»

«It's still safe for us to talk this way?»

«Yes,» Charles sends seriously. «You can't imagine what it means to me. I'll do whatever it takes to keep this safe for us.»

«So will I,» Erik promises. He leans in and kisses Charles's temple. «Always, Charles.»

\---

They still have to pack up and get lunch. Charles finds himself wishing they'd moved back to the hotel after he was over his bout of illness; now that Erik seems to be managing their sleeping arrangements easily, it would have been fine. Of course, the hotel was likely full. Still, being able to get room service would have been more convenient than having to pick from the few options in town.

As it turns out, though, there's bread on the counter and cold cuts in the fridge. Along with a note from... ah, yes, their Mill Point guardian angel. _Hope this comes in handy. See you next time. --John_

A bit invasive, but better than having to leave the cabin just yet.

The Psychitrex talk went better than Charles could ever have expected, all things considered. He knows he should have told Erik sooner that he was taking Psychitrex... but after all, Erik said it himself, when he first confessed about his night with Marvin. _He was on Psychitrex, so it was all right._ Erik is remarkably accepting of Charles's telepathy, but Charles is his soulmate, already linked through the limited empathy of the bond. Other telepaths need medication to be "all right."

It's no surprise Erik feels that way. Even the most hardline mutant rights activists tend to equivocate when it comes to telepathy and the unique problems it presents.

So many people believe that the empathy created by the soulbond is sacred; it's a tenet of many of the world's most commonly held faiths. And by that light, telepathy doesn't just represent an invasion of privacy, it's a sacrilege. Most of his life, Charles has been around secular, urban people whose only worry is for their privacy, but in some communities, people genuinely fear telepaths endanger their bonds, even their souls.

Other "problem" mutations fall under existing laws, for the most part: abilities like enhanced strength and pyrokinesis and teleportation tend to worry baseline humans, but it's just as illegal for mutants to commit assault, arson and trespassing as anyone else.

Telepathy, though, has no precedent in baseline human law, and every time new legislation targets it, murmurs run through the mutant community suggesting that maybe they should let the baselines do what they want about psionics. The counter-arguments usually warn that if psionic abilities are made illegal, other mutations will be next in line; it's far less common to defend telepaths and empaths on principle, simply because it's wrong to make anyone's senses illegal.

Charles knows by now that Erik would make that principled argument, and he'd mean it. Erik's not quite so extreme as to believe no human laws apply to mutants, but he would never support or obey any baseline human law restraining mutant ability. And Erik subscribes to the school of thought that says mutants should be allowed to decide for themselves how best to use their mutations, including the choice not to use them at all, or to control them with medication. _Eir mutation, eir choice._ It's a theme that came up more than once in their conversations during Erik's conference days.

And he told Erik the truth. He had migraines almost daily after meeting Erik in September, his head pounding as he blundered through day after day unable to eat, shutting himself in his office or his bedroom every few hours to break down again. Taking Psychitrex helped; it made him feel as if he were doing _something_ to help keep Erik safe, even if it came years too late.

He won't have to shoehorn himself into a life in Mill Point, either, much to his relief. Erik was far more receptive to an accessibility point than he was to all of Charles's arguments against separatism. Even though those arguments were perfectly sound and reasonable. There's absolutely zero possibility that fifty thousand like-minded mutants are going to up and move to Maine, particularly when there aren't jobs for them, nor housing built for them. 

Trying to take over Maine's state government from the inside like that doesn't even really sound like it matches some of the separatists' plans; Charles heard from more than one person at dinner last night that baseline human governance shouldn't apply to mutants at all. If even mutant separatists aren't ready to vote the MSP line to gain control of Maine's local political institutions, there's no reason to think that more moderate mutants will.

While living among separatists and extremists doesn't appeal to Charles in the slightest, the accessibility concerns truly are at the forefront of his mind, after two weeks here. He supposes he realized this before, but he hasn't stayed more than a handful of days in any low-density area since he left home at fifteen. The differences between city life and 'country' life are stark, even when it comes to people's minds. In a city, people have less expectation of privacy. Their minds aren't as guarded, and that too is hard for non-telepaths to comprehend-- to them it seems as if the more minds in one place, the more guarded they'd be. 

But city dwellers are accustomed to sharing space with others. They conduct deeply personal conversations by mobile on crowded trains and buses, relying on the anonymity of the crowd or simply not caring if anyone overhears them. They take little notice of other people unless something unusual is happening. And mentally, it's much the same-- all those open minds contribute to the blend and buzz that helps Charles avoid hearing any one mind unless he tries deliberately. 

In Mill Point, there are radically fewer people, most with more guarded minds. So not only does Charles find it harder to screen out their thoughts, he also can't help but sense what kind of minds they have, and how much it would distress them if they knew someone was picking up on their secrets, inadvertently or not.

And the conversation about Mill Point, about their future together... it went well. Erik was trying to comfort _him_ ; Erik didn't seem resentful at all, once Charles admitted to his accessibility concerns. If anything, Charles sensed a trace of wistfulness... but they can always vacation here, as well as other mutant enclaves all over the world. Mill Point is nearly unique, but not entirely. There's a place in the Bahamas, Charles seems to recall, and Switzerland has a few tourist spots that cater specifically to mutants. He'll talk to Alex and Armando, see where he might be able to take Erik.

He'll work hard, in New York or in Pittsburgh, to help build Erik the kind of mutant community he dreams of. There's nothing he wouldn't do to make that dream come true for both of them. And as soon as he gets home, he can send resumes to the colleges he's been in contact with, look into long-term employment in Pittsburgh.

This should be progress. It should all feel like progress.

But the day's wearing on, Erik's growing more and more subdued and discontent, and their time together is drawing to a close. There's one thing that Charles knows will cheer _him_ up, so maybe it'll work on Erik, too. As he puts away the leftover cold cuts and cheese and tucks their dishes into the dishwasher, he says, "Next time, then. Where would you like to meet?"

Erik blinks at Charles. "Next time?"

He's more distracted than Charles feared. "Next time we see each other," Charles prompts, coming back into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa, gently bumping Erik's arm with his elbow. "Where? And when?"

"A city," Erik says immediately.

"Paris?" Charles suggests. He still hasn't really had the chance to try to court Erik the way he'd hoped. While he was ill, he looked over the romance novels that John found for Erik, and bought ebook versions on his Kindle to peruse at leisure. He skimmed a few of them over tea at the cafe, but found them disappointingly short of ideas for romantic gifts or holidays. It seems that in most of them, the dominant merely takes out a decent hotel room to impress the sub, or gives em sex toys as presents, which are soon put to use in lengthy sex scenes.

That leaves Charles with nothing to draw on but his vaguely condensed notion of what other people find romantic: trips to Paris, flowers, candle-lit dinners and baths.

"I don't have enough vacation time to go on another big trip," Erik says. "I don't have any vacation time left, period."

"I could come to Pittsburgh on your days off," says Charles. Erik's emotions intensify in a strong muddled mix: maybe invading his space is too much. Thinking fast, Charles says, "We could still treat it like a holiday. You could show me around, we could stay in a hotel just for fun-- is there anywhere you've wanted to stay, in Pittsburgh? The Renaissance and the Omni William Penn are both mutant-friendly."

"And expensive. Charles... when is all this going to stop?"

"--I'm sorry?"

"The hotel suites, the private plane, the car and chauffeur-- you can't spend money like this all the time."

"Erik, I don't care about the money," Charles begins.

Of course that's the wrong thing to say; Erik immediately rolls his eyes. "I've noticed," he says. "But _I_ care."

"Right, all right, understood, but Erik-- I can't think of a single thing I could spend money on that would be as important as you. As _us_ , as building our lives together. If trips to Pittsburgh on the weekends are what you need--"

"I _work_ weekends," Erik points out.

"Then like I said before, your days off," Charles says, exasperation beginning to bubble up for him as well. "I don't care if it's Saturday and Sunday, or Tuesday and Thursday-- I don't have scheduled obligations, I'm working on my book, I can timeshift my work for MEOI and my Xavier Foundation responsibilities around our time together, I gave notice to all the events I'm attending that I may bow out-- or you can come to New York and join me for them, I'd love to have you there."

"I would have thought this trip would have taught you that the New York jet-set of mutants isn't exactly my speed," Erik says pointedly. "If I'm going to be doing work for the mutant community in New York, I want to get my hands dirty-- even if you don't."

"Hands dirty?"

"I want to meet mutants, actually _build_ things. I could help with community gardening, roof renovations, any of that."

Charles looks at Erik for a few moments. "That's rather specific."

Erik's lips thin, and then he says, "I looked it up. What MYONY's doing over the next few months." And Erik's mood dips hard as he says, "And you didn't even _know_."

"I've been preoccupied," Charles protests. He has, in fact, scaled back on his commitments because things are up in the air with Erik, because he wants the flexibility to meet or move to be together whenever Erik's ready. "Armando always calls me, he lets me know when they need a hand. It's not as if I'm not involved--"

"Isn't it?" Erik crosses his arms over his chest. "You do all those events, you were out at a charity dinner with _wine_ that night I met Marvin and some of the other mutants here-- how does drinking wine with other wealthy mutants help the community at large?"

"That charity dinner funded an anti-bullying program that was presented at over 100 public schools in the New York metropolitan area," Charles says, but again, Erik's accusations sting. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but it's not as easy for me to employ my ability to do physical work as it is for you. My telepathy doesn't make me any better-suited to building renovation than anyone else."

"But your money, _that_ you can employ," Erik says. "At least in self-congratulatory dinner parties and status-loaded events. I think you're so used to your standard of living that you've forgotten what it's like for mutants who genuinely _need_ the resources they get from their communities, the ones who are in foster homes because their birth parents threatened to mutilate their webbed fingers, or whose parents can't afford the specialized education supplies they need."

"I haven't forgotten any of that," Charles says. "I sense it every time I go into a room with underprivileged mutants. The excitement they feel when someone takes the time to work out a way for them to do something that utilizes their abilities creatively. The surprise when someone's willing to sit down with them and help them work through a difficult patch as their abilities hit a growth spurt."

"And yet you'd rather host a private stunt-racing class with other adult mutants-- human supporters welcome-- than do any of those things."

As soon as Erik says it, some embarrassment burns through him, and Charles can guess why. "You looked up the Xavier Foundation's spring calendar, I see."

"Yes."

"For what it's worth, that class routinely brings in enough funds to--"

"--to pay for materials and supplies and probably aid with rent somewhere, yes, I understand that it's important to raise money," Erik says impatiently. "But it isn't outreach. It's glamour. And if that's the world you walk in, then we're going to be doing very different things with the mutant community no matter _where_ we end up in the long run."

Charles presses his hand to his forehead, exhaling through his teeth. "Well, at least it's still 'we,'" he mutters.

"What?"

He already regrets saying it, but there's no use pretending he didn't. "I said, at least it's still 'we'. Where _we_ end up."

" _What?_ Charles--" Erik reaches out and takes Charles by the biceps, turning him to face Erik on the couch. "Of course it's still 'we', is that some sort of joke? It isn't funny."

"It's not a joke." Charles reaches up to Erik's shoulders. "We've had a lot of disagreements on this trip." And between his bout of illness and Erik's conference and the fact that they can't keep their hands off each other, they haven't had much else; it's been mostly sex and arguments. Charles can live with that, but given that Erik's in no rush to even set up their next visit, maybe Erik can't.

"And?" Erik slides his hands up and down Charles's arms. "We're not the only soulmates who have to figure out what to do about their differences."

"No," Charles admits, his hand moving a little further, up to the back of Erik's neck... up to cover his joining spot, that one place that's just for them. Erik's eyes flutter closed, and Charles squeezes gently. "We're not the first."

"Charles..." Erik leans foward, almost swaying, and his lips meet Charles's, their kiss sparking something deep for both of them. Sex and arguments. If those are the only choices, Charles knows how he'd rather spend the last hours of their time together.

«I love you,» Charles sends, giving Erik the emotion along with the words. «I love you, Erik.»

«I love you, too,» Erik sends in return, and it's such a relief to feel the truth behind those words that Charles squeezes harder, earning a moan from Erik. Erik clutches at Charles's shirt. «That's never changed. That's _never_ going to change.»

Erik says that now, but Charles has felt many different things from him-- frustration, anger, grief, outrage. Back in September, he even felt revulsion, disappointment, and hurt... hurt that Charles caused him by barging so callously into Erik's life and making accusations that Erik never deserved. It's no wonder Erik needs his space, but just now, they're clinging to each other, and Erik's kissing him back. Charles isn't a good enough man to turn away from that, not when he has no idea when he'll see Erik again.

He doesn't want to turn this into another claiming scene, but Erik tugs at him, pulling Charles down on top of him. Charles isn't good enough to turn that down, either. He slides both hands behind Erik's neck as they move together on the sofa, his fingers reaching up for Erik's joining spot. Erik moans, rubbing down against Charles's touch, showing throat... and exposing all the bruises Charles has been leaving during this trip, some of them already beginning to fade. Charles licks his lips. It's not reasonable, needing to see his marks on Erik so badly. It should be up to Erik, too, whether he wants Charles's claim so vividly on his skin.

Erik looks up at him, squirming beneath him. He gets one leg up, his thigh pressed to Charles's hip. «Are you waiting for me to say 'please'?»

Charles shivers. «Please what?»

Confusion mottles Erik's emotions for a moment, and he tries, «Please... sir...?»

So much for being a good man; Charles bends his head down and bites Erik's neck, sucking up a mark where it'll show no matter what sort of shirt Erik chooses to wear. «Erik,» he sends, «my love, yes...»

Erik slides his hands up above his head, placing them on the sofa's armrest. « _Yes_ ,» he sends, and his thoughts are nearly a growl in Charles's mind. «Do it, I want it, I want to wear your marks until we see each other again...»

The mark is fresh on Erik's skin when Charles moves his lips to the side, biting and licking and sucking, half thrilled and half relieved. «I want that, too. Erik, I want you, I--» He stops trying to form words and just thrusts helplessly down against Erik, rubbing his cock against Erik's, moaning as he kisses Erik's neck again and again.

They don't make it off the couch; they don't even make it out of most of their clothes. They get their trousers open, pushed down around their thighs, and then Charles moves one of Erik's hands to their cocks, putting Erik's beautiful fingers around them. «Touch us. Touch us _both_ ,» Charles orders. «I want to feel you, your hand on both of us... go on, Erik... do it...»

"I want you so much," Erik moans, stroking them, gasping beneath Charles as he does-- it's unreal, how beautiful Erik is, how perfect it is to feel him surrendering and following orders and loving every moment of it. "Charles, _yes_ \-- Charles, I--" He switches to projecting for the rest of it: «I love you. I love you, I love you, Charles, yes, please, yes--»

That _please_ lights every nerve in Charles's body on fire. He leans down, crushing his mouth to Erik's once again. He can forget about tomorrow, next week, where they'll be a month from now. At this moment, all he needs is Erik. Erik underneath him, Erik giving to him. Erik _begging_ him.

This time, there's no holding them off, no waiting-- they drive each other hard to the edge, and Charles bites down on Erik's neck as they go over, Erik's cries filling the air and his pleasure filling Charles's mind. It's another mark, dark and rich on Erik's skin, and as the immediate pain from it fades, Charles feels Erik's satisfaction and thrill taking its place.

«I needed that,» Erik admits fuzzily, bringing his clean hand up and stroking Charles's hair. «I need all of this.»

More than anything, Charles wants to send, _I need_ you _, Erik,_ but he can't bear the idea of pressuring him and feeling Erik draw back. Not now.

He rests his head on Erik's shoulder and lets Erik keep petting him. Their time is slipping away so fast now, and he doesn't know when he'll be seeing Erik again. Erik's friends in Pittsburgh probably won't have anything good to say about Charles... when Erik's there, alone with them, he could probably think of a thousand reasons that Charles is wrong for him, bond or no.

By the time they make it to the airport, they're cutting it close on time. Erik's flight has already hit pre-boarding when their driver gets them to the door. It doesn't leave them any time for lingering goodbyes, but maybe that's for the best. Erik sweeps Charles into his arms, holding tight, and sends, «I'll text when I land, I'll let you know I'm home safe.»

«I'll know,» Charles reassures him, trying to keep his chin up. «But thank you. I'll be waiting.»

«I love you.» Erik kisses Charles, briefly, much too briefly. But if that's all Erik can offer, Charles will take it. «I love you, Charles. We'll talk again soon. We'll figure it out.»

Charles nods. He's glad for his telepathy right now; he wouldn't trust himself to speak. «Soon, darling.»

One last tight embrace, and Erik dashes off. Charles gets back in the car and steps out at the private flights terminal-- and by the time he's there, he feels relief coming from the bond.

He's still close enough that he could send a question to Erik, but what would he say? _Are you that grateful to get away from me?_ No. Erik needs space; he needs room to decide if this is really what he wants from a long-term relationship. Charles is going to do the right thing; he's going to give it to him.

He stifles the impulse to text Erik with _I miss you already_ , and waits for them to come and get him, tell him his plane's ready. Ready to take him back to New York, even if home feels like it's getting further away from him with every minute's passing.


	28. Working It Out (8/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik come home from their Mill Point visit, and although the first few days are difficult, it's not long before they're on the right track again. Meanwhile, in Pittsburgh, Erik makes a new friend.

Erik's first Tuesday back, he gets a phone call from Jason. "We have the rest of tonight free. Up for company?"

"Definitely, come over. Should I make dinner?"

"We're bringing something," Jason tells him, and within a few minutes, he and Kurt appear in the living room, Kurt's tail wrapped around Jason's waist and tucked into his front pants pocket. Jason grins, "Catch!" and lobs a paper-wrapped packet.

Erik snatches it from the air and peels it open to discover a burger from In-and-Out, still hot.

"Fresh from L.A.," Kurt grins fangily. "We have fries also."

"For that, you get the couch," Erik says, and shifts to the nearby armchair to let them settle on the cushions together, unloading more paper sacks onto the coffee table, along with sodas and a six-pack of beer. "I thought you were filming today."

"I was. But they cut my favorite line in the whole damn thing-- the director wouldn't even let me try one lousy take with it. So when we wrapped for the day, I really needed a break, and Kurt," Jason leans against his husband, sending illusionary cartoon hearts floating up between them, "suggested this, because he is both awesome and the best."

Erik washes down a bite with a swallow of beer. "What was the line? You could do it for us."

"I can't, man. Too soon," Jason scowls. Kurt pulls a face and lightly head-butts Jason's shoulder; Jason shakes out of it enough to feed him a french fry, and soon the cartoon hearts are flying around again.

The handfeeding gives Erik a pang. He and Charles talked about trying it, but the idea fell by the wayside. Charles's food poisoning derailed a lot of the things they'd planned early on. He remembers, though, the way Charles lit up when Erik said he might like it.

He closes his eyes. Still no emotions from Charles, but he can feel the direction of the bond, leading almost directly east. East, like when they were teenagers together, but so much closer now, the sense of direction so much stronger.

"Oh, hey," Jason says, after he and Kurt finally stop canoodling and get back to their food. "How was Mill Point?"

Erik gives him the same answer he's given everyone who asked: a huge smile and a tug at his shirt collar, pulling it aside to show off his best bruises.

Jason whistles. "Wow. He really gave you the business. I wouldn't have guessed he'd be the type."

"He is with me." Erik doesn't even try to tone down his smugness.

Every time Charles looked thrilled at the least sign of submission that Erik offered, every time his mental voice dissolved into incoherent lust, each time he pinned Erik down and kissed him fervently, like nothing could hold him back-- every time, Erik felt more solid in himself, a long-standing ache soothed, confidence returning.

The fact that Charles was troubled at first about scening while they were arguing, and then those doubts crumbled and he took over completely... that was so romantic Erik still feels himself trembling at the knees a little when he thinks about it, when he remembers the way Charles's touches and kisses turned into claims, over and over.

"Okay, that's a look," Jason says.

"I knew they would be happy!" Kurt claps his hands, bouncing on the couch.

"We still have some things to work out," says Erik. "The days I was going to the MFMR conference, I started finding out about some of his daffy ideas. He's basically convinced himself that if we just educate humans and make nice, they'll settle down and let us out-evolve them. It's crazy."

"Ixnay on the azycray," Jason casts a significant look toward Kurt. Illusionary arrows pop into existence, all pointing at Kurt and at the rose-colored glasses Jason's put on him, complete with roses twining and blooming on the frames.

"Yes," Kurt says dryly, adjusting the rose glasses, "how foolish we are to think that merely teaching people could actually teach them anything."

"You, too?" Erik stomps down his knee-jerk _you, of all people_ reaction. It's another subtler form of bigotry to assume that looking different ought to lead someone to think a particular way. 

And Kurt's experiences have been unique: he was part of Cirque des Mutants from an early age, his looks celebrated along with his gifts. He's met more than his share of ignorant people who react poorly to his velvety blue skin and golden eyes, the different shapes of his hands and feet, his tail. But he's also been met with applause from thousands of people on sight. Given all that, it's not so strange that Kurt believes humans can accept mutants. For him, the difference between prejudice and acceptance is often just the price of a ticket.

But that still leaves out the rest of mutantkind, the mutants who aren't willing to entertain humans to earn their sufferance.

"Anyway," Erik says, "the last night of the conference he got into it with Brian."

"With Brian?" Question marks revolve around Jason's head; since he married Kurt he's been more expressive than ever. "Not with you?"

"Not in public," says Erik, a little scandalized.

Jason stares at him. "Seriously?"

Rankled, Erik rubs his palms against his knees, the denim rough under his hands. "Yeah. Look, I know I sucked at submission, so maybe you missed it, but I _was_ a sub, and-- don't look at me like that, I didn't keep my mouth shut. He knows I don't agree with him."

"Man, I'd hope," says Jason. "--Wait, back up, what... what are you talking about, you didn't suck at submission! Let me guess, that motherfucker fed you that line too."

"Fuck you," says Erik, which makes Jason sit back with his hands up in a gesture of _don't shoot_ and has Kurt frowning. Jason quickly pats Kurt on the leg. Erik goes on, "No, he-- no. This isn't about Sebastian. You were there for all that, you remember."

He's not bringing this up in front of Kurt, but Jason can't have forgotten that summer in Boston, the night Erik ended up kneeling in the bathroom while Jason was finishing a scene with that sub of his. The way Jason told him, _I don't want to come out of a scene and find_ you _kneeling on the bath mat._

Jason's frowning at him, nodding slowly. "You had a run of really rough scenes," he admits, "but I never would've said you sucked at submission."

Erik wonders if Jason needs a pair of rose-colored glasses himself. He can't help a bit of self-satisfaction when he says, "Well, one thing's for sure. I finally found the right dom."

\---

Armando opens the door and pauses before he says hello. "Oh, man," he says, "looks like I don't have to ask how things went in Mill Point. Are you okay?"

"I'm all right," Charles says, moping his way inside. Armando takes his overcoat, and once it's hung up on the coat rack, pulls Charles into a hug. Charles lets his head rest on Armando's shoulder, sighing. He hasn't slept much since he got home. He keeps replaying the last argument he and Erik had over and over, stopping when he gets to the part where he let it turn into a scene. Or rather, he thinks about that a lot as well, but-- he has to save that for when he's alone.

He shouldn't regret that scene, he _doesn't_ regret it, but a better man would have stopped and brought the argument to a solid compromise position, or at least negotiated an agreement to table it and come back to it, only then taking all that Erik was offering.

Instead he just-- took over. He could feel Erik loved it at the time, but much good that does Charles now, back in New York, unwelcome in Pittsburgh, with no commitment from Erik to even see him again.

"He's run out of holiday time, so we haven't set a date to meet again," is the excuse he gives, and then chides himself. When he's sensed people prevaricating in their relationships, he always wondered what could be worth risking the trust of the people in their lives. Gaining trust always feels like such an uphill climb to Charles, he could never imagine being so cavalier about it. But here he is, as pointlessly dishonest as anyone.

"--And we argued," he admits. "We didn't leave things on a very positive note."

"Hey, it's okay. It's all okay. Dude is crazy about you, we could see it a mile away," Armando murmurs. He strokes Charles's back, coaxing some of the tension out of his muscles. "Have you talked to him since you parted ways?"

Charles nods. "Texts yesterday and today," he says, "and we spoke on the phone a bit last night." It was just long enough for Erik to yawn his way through the conversation, apologize, and explain that he had a long day on his feet at the shop. Neither of them brought up setting a date for their next visit.

"That's good, right? I'm sure that's good. C'mere." Armando slips an arm around Charles's waist and guides him out to the living room, settling him down in an armchair. "Anything you want to spill before Alex comes downstairs and does his best to distract you?"

"I should have realized what I was getting into," Charles admits. "I knew he was going to the MFMR conference, but I didn't think his views on mutant-human relations would be so extreme."

"How extreme are we talking?" Armando asks. "Like, separatist extreme?"

"He signed on to the Mutant State Project," Charles says, covering his face with one hand.

"Oh, shit."

"Well-- now we've talked about it, he says he won't go. But he said that because of me, it isn't that he doesn't want to go. He believes it'll actually work."

Armando shakes his head. "Seriously? Getting fifty thousand mutants to do anything, let alone move to freaking Maine, would be like herding cats. My mutation can go a hell of a long way, but I've tried herding cats, and there are some things that just can't be done."

"That was my point-- one of my points. I made several good points!" Charles sits back. "But in the end, the only thing that was genuinely persuasive was telling him that it's difficult for me to be in small towns, because of my telepathy."

"Still, at least that did persuade him."

"I don't think that counts." Charles's mouth twists. "And I don't like that he's giving in on the grounds that I couldn't tolerate Mill Point. I'd probably adapt to the low population density before I'd get used to the boredom. What would I do with myself? No colleges, and the work there is almost entirely service jobs and tourist trade. Even if I tried to teach high-school level concordance or biology, there aren't any openings. They have all the teachers they need, when every mutant education specialist practically does a pilgrimage there. But none of that mattered, and he wasn't convinced by anything I said about the Mutant State Project. Only the fact that my mutation would make me uncomfortable there made a difference."

"Still. Your soulmate's accommodating you. How is that bad?" Armando asks. "You did the same for him. It's not like you took a dude who survived a relationship with a really sick, twisted dominant, and immediately slapped a collar on him, right? You didn't force him into a box or rush him into things. You're accommodating him. Why's it bad for him to do that for you?"

"It isn't-- of course it's not bad, we're accommodating each other, that's fine," Charles admits. Though it still galls him that he even had to tell Erik that his telepathy is strained by small towns. "And... no, I haven't tried to push for anything when it comes to his orientation. I'm going at his pace. I'm going at his pace in everything." _I want to recognize you, marry you, collar you, claim you every way there is..._ "--I'm trying. Where was I? His separatism. Seeing him with his MFMR friends, it was... surprising."

"It's an adjustment," Armando nods. "But it's good that he's strong on mutant rights. Isn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Charles says heavily, "that's good." He chews his lip. "When I told some of his friends I could screen them out if they didn't want me to read their emotions, one of them asked me to block her. Erik was livid, he stomped off. I could barely persuade him to come back. And the friend who asked me to block, he ignored her after that, and I didn't see her or sense her near him once for the rest of the trip. He just dropped her. Over that! Over accepting a courtesy that I offered in the first place."

"Yeah, that's... actually, I don't know," says Armando, "he was sticking up for you, wasn't he?"

"I don't need to be stuck up for, not over that," Charles says. "He was so busy defending my right to use my mutation indiscriminately that he didn't listen to what I actually said."

Even Armando doesn't bother trying to find the silver lining there, he just changes tack entirely. "The conference wasn't the whole trip, though, was it? Besides the," he flips a hand toward his temple, "how did you like Mill Point?"

"It's nice. I missed being able to stay more open, because it did feel good to sense so many of us in one place like that. Add another hundred thousand people around there somewhere, and I could've thinned out my shields and just felt them all around us... that would've been lovely." Charles shrugs. "As it was, nothing doing. If I didn't shield, I was picking up every bad mood and charged thought like it was a shout. Oh, and I got food poisoning."

"You're kidding."

"Days of it," Charles says. "And I'm sick of hearing myself moan, so I think that concludes my whinging session. I did love the trip, regardless of all that. So tell me, how did the meeting with the district go?"

"Pretty typical," says Armando. "We went through our presentation, they cried poverty, we threw some numbers at them, they turned out their pockets and made sad faces at us."

"But it's such a good program! And it's a minimal investment for a tangible benefit to the kids _and_ the community, and it would be easy to get good publicity for it."

"They didn't want to hear it." Armando shakes his head. "And I've already squeezed our mailing lists til they squeaked. I can't solicit more donations this quarter. So we're looking at another fundraiser, maybe. --What?"

"Sorry," Charles tries to school his expression a bit more. "One of Erik's friends roasted me a bit about doing fundraisers instead of hands-on work."

Armando snorts. "Yeah, I hear that one a lot myself. What do people think _pays_ for hands-on work?"

"I know. But Erik puts a lot of himself into his volunteer work, and I think he's disappointed that I'm not doing that."

"But he knows you stopped because you found him, right?" Charles still must not be doing a very good job of controlling his expression, because Armando frowns at him. "You've got to tell him that kind of thing. Don't you think he'd want to know that you're putting your life on hold for him?"

"Is there any way to tell him that wouldn't be interpreted as pressuring him?" Charles returns. "At the wedding, Jason told me not to push him." He'll never forget the way Jason said, _He's **been** pushed,_ and the awful emotions Jason experienced when he said it. "I have to give him space to decide for himself what's right for him."

"Sure. And you're his soulmate, you're a big part of his life, so what you're doing and how you're feeling are going to factor into his decisions about what's right for him."

Alex comes bombing down the stairs just in time to save Charles from having to answer that. "Charles! How was Mill Point?" He practically launches himself off the bottom step into the room, bouncing on his toes. "Did you love it? It's great, isn't it? We should all go next time, all four of us. I promise I won't even say the f-word. Any of the f-words."

Armando laughs and catches Alex's hand, reeling him in and pulling him onto his lap. "Baby, I have got to switch you to decaf."

" _You_ can keep up with me and then some."

Charles smiles, but his heart isn't quite in it. He can't imagine there ever coming a time when he could be that easy, that free with Erik. Still... Erik went home covered with his marks. He should try to focus on that memory, remember how it felt to have Erik demanding more bruises, visible marks he could take home with him.

He needs to stop dwelling on hopes and dreams and appreciate the gifts he's been given. He's lucky Erik gave him a second chance at all; he's lucky Erik stuck with him as they fumbled their way through their difficulties with power exchange. He's beyond lucky that Erik acknowledged him. And no one has ever been as accepting of his telepathy as Erik has been. Erik shared his mind and asked for marks, and Charles has the gall to be dissatisfied.

If this is all they ever have-- living hundreds of miles apart, keeping in touch by text and phone call, only seeing each other when it's convenient-- then he'll learn to accept that; he'll learn to treasure it. It's more than he has any right to expect.

\---

After they've polished off dinner, Jason pats the couch next to him. "You want to see some dailies?" he asks.

"Of course," Erik says, shifting over to the couch along with Jason and Kurt. Kurt drapes his tail over Jason's shoulder, which Erik can't exactly blame him for-- if he had a tail, he'd probably have it wrapped around Charles every moment they were together. He shifts a bit uneasily-- it's _strange_ not being able to just fit himself up against Jason, the way he's done since they were teenagers.

Jason takes care of that himself, though, putting an arm around Erik's shoulders to match the one he has around Kurt's. A slight flash of blue motion catches both Jason and Erik's attention, and Jason says, "Watch out, he noogies."

Erik has just enough time to duck his head before Kurt's tail sweeps through his hair. All three of them laugh, and Erik stops worrying about socially-acceptable distances and just lets himself enjoy having friends, plural, he can be close to.

Kurt gives Erik's hair another light tousle. "Hm! Is this longer?"

"A little," Erik admits. "I've skipped the last couple of buzzcuts. I thought I'd grow it out some."

"It looks good!" Kurt enthuses. " _You_ look good, you look contented."

Erik runs his fingers through his hair-- it's actually getting long enough to muss now. "I feel good," he admits. "Better than I have in a long time."

"The right person can make a huge difference," Kurt says, settling his head on Jason's shoulder. More hearts rise up into the air, and Jason kisses Kurt's hair. "I will take you shopping if you like!"

"Oh, God," Jason laughs. "Guess who likes shopping even more than I do?"

"Me!" Kurt waves his tail enthusiastically in the air. "Yes. Shopping. It would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"I'm not going full-out into sub wear," Erik warns him. Still, his wardrobe has been feeling a little restrictive lately, and it _would_ be nice to get Charles's attention the next time they see each other.

"Pfft. Who are you talking to?" Kurt leans across Jason, who half-blanks himself, going moderately transparent, and hangs a sign on his chest that says, NO, REALLY, PRETEND I'M NOT HERE. "A switch, I remind you. I know all the best places for non-traditional outfits that will show off your absurd waist."

That sounds... oddly fun, Erik realizes. "Okay," he says carefully. "We should think about that."

"Good!" Kurt claps his hands together and snuggles back against Jason's side; Jason fades back into full view. "How much time will we have? You are going to see Charles again soon, yes?"

"I don't know," Erik says. If he could project his own moods, there'd be a little black rain cloud above his head. "Soon, I hope, but..."

"Don't tell me you've burned through all your vacation time already," Jason says. "I thought you had a year of time saved up since you never took sick days or holidays."

"I get two weeks a year," Erik explains, "and I can carry two weeks over. But I used all four weeks I had saved up last year in December, for your wedding, so I didn't have anything to carry over to this year. And then I blew all this year's vacation time in Mill Point. If early February weren't one of our busiest times..."

"Yeah, but man, your first Valentine's Day after you found your soulmate. They have to let you off for that, right?"

"I don't think that's mandated by law," Erik says dryly.

"It is in Germany!" Kurt pipes up.

"Hoo boy," Jason says.

"Also we have a word for it," Kurt beams.

"Uh-huh."

"I will not repeat now because it takes nine days to say." Kurt rubs the end of his tail over Jason's shoulder.

"Cool story, babe."

"Hmph. And they say _Germans_ have no sense of humor."

"Well..." Erik sighs. "I guess I could ask." But that brings up another question. "What's a good place to go on Valentine's Day that has a lot of people?"

"Uh-- you _want_ a lot of people around?"

"For Charles," Erik explains. "Apparently his ability makes it easier for him to be in populated places than low-density places like Mill Point..."

Jason's dubious look is so comical it almost has to be part-illusion. "Whaaaat."

"You have not heard this?" Kurt asks. "I have heard this. Like a crowded room. Yes?"

"Like when you got that white noise machine for your dorm room at CM," Erik tells Jason.

"Point taken, I _guess._ "

"So I don't want to be somewhere we'll never have any privacy, but I want to be somewhere that the hotels are full and they're _big_. And not too far away if we can help it. I don't want to waste much time on airplanes."

"Uh, New York?" Jason tries. "Not far, and you already know he can handle being there."

"That's not romantic!" Kurt objects. After a moment's pondering, though, he mutters, "Not so easy to find romance close by here, though..."

Jason smirks over at Erik. "Guess when you can go anywhere in the world any time, the east coast just doesn't rate."

"Well! And what is romantic near here, your boggy capital? The Liberty Bell?"

"No, he's right, Pittsburgh's not exactly Romance Central," Erik agrees. "Before, I thought maybe Fire Island, but now I guess not, not enough people..."

"Yeah. Man, around here... do people even still go to Niagara Falls? How big is that?"

"Maybe not so big on this side, but there is the whole Canadian side also," Kurt says. "Telepathy does not stop at borders."

"His range probably isn't that big--" Jason begins.

"Erik's power is coming back, so should it be for Charles, and he reached a hundred miles when he was young."

A hundred miles. If Erik lived in Philadelphia, they'd be within that range. He's never even considered moving to Philadelphia before, but if it would mean he could hear Charles's thoughts every day, it might be worth it...

"Seriously? Wait, how do you know--?"

"We talked about it! He will talk forever about mutation."

"Niagara Falls," Erik muses. "Maybe we could do the Canadian side... I've never been to Canada. I'll look into it." He nudges against Jason, and by proxy, against Kurt, too. "Thanks."

"Of course!" says Kurt. "Now are we seeing these dailies? Or was that just an excuse to cuddle?"

Erik glances at Jason, and then across to Kurt-- and they both smirk in unison, looking at Jason together. "Busted," Jason admits, squeezing both their shoulders. "What, a guy can't bask in having the love of his life and his BFF on one couch together?"

"As long as this is as far as it goes," Erik says. "Charles and I talked about it in Mill Point, made it official-- we're monogamous."

Jason stares at Erik for a moment. " _Charles Xavier_ is going _monogamous_? Seriously?"

\---

"I'm afraid so," Charles says, laughing at Alex's over-the-top disappointed expression. "But it's good. We're both happy about it."

"He's the jealous type, isn't he?" Alex pouts. "I just knew it."

"It's not that," Charles says, coughing politely. "We were apart for a long time. Now that we're in each other's lives, we both want to make that commitment."

"Promise me if that changes, we have first dibs," Alex says. "And I can still hug you, right?"

"Of course you can still hug me," Charles says.

"Good!" And just like that, he's got an armful of Alex, while Armando rolls his eyes skyward and laughs. It's a nice hug, though-- warm and friendly and comforting. Charles runs his fingers through Alex's hair and smiles.

He can feel Erik through the bond-- he seems to be having a good night himself. There's affection and comfort, directed at someone else... but it doesn't raise Charles's hackles, not from here. It feels friendly. It's good for both of them to have friends.

He reminds himself of that again and again over the course of the night, and that he's glad Erik's doing so well in Pittsburgh. But he can't help the way it nags at him a bit, not being included, and he wishes he could know just what's going on out there.

He gets a text from Erik a little later in the evening. [Jason and Kurt came to visit!]

Quickly texting back, Charles sends off, [Good to hear! I'm over at Alex and Armando's tonight.]

There's a confused note in the bond, and a few moments later, Erik texts back, [All night?]

[Of course not all night,] Charles texts. [I'll be going home in half an hour or so, Armando has an early morning tomorrow.]

Relief, chased by slight embarrassment. [Then I'll call you in an hour.]

It's remarkable how much Charles's mood can be perked up by the mere promise of a phone call. [I'll be waiting. I love you.]

Erik texts back, [I love you.] Charles sometimes thinks of taking screenshots and pinning them to his study wall, but it's not the same without the deep pulse of emotion that comes through their bond. It's so good, having this. Having even this much is better than any relationship Charles has ever had before.

\---

Erik waves goodbye to Jason and Kurt, then tosses the leftover paper sack from In-N-Out Burger into the garbage and cleans up the cans and bottles left on the coffee table. He's got a few minutes yet before the promised phone call, so he brushes his teeth and washes his face, too, looking carefully into the mirror at his bare chest and smiling at the marks on his neck, shoulders, pecs, even his arms. Charles really _did_ do right by him; there are places Erik's still sore, and bruises that are going to take days to fade.

He had to remind himself that Jason barely knows Charles-- Jason's shock at the idea of Charles being monogamous stung a bit. But Kurt waved a hand and rolled his eyes at that, and Erik decided to drop it before he started feeling the urge to prove his bona fides with stories about how well his submission went in Mill Point. It's strange that he wants to hold things back from Jason, of all people, but Erik's not sure he's ready to talk details. Not even with his best friend. Part of him wants to hold all those memories of his time with Charles close to his chest, keep them private... and part of him doesn't like the idea of having to argue his own case. Just because he hasn't subbed seriously in years doesn't mean he can't satisfy his dominant. No matter who his dominant is.

He climbs into bed and picks up the phone, dialing Charles's number. One of the best things about having an iPhone is that he gets to see a picture of Charles on the screen before the phone starts ringing-- although the metal casing on the phone doesn't hurt, either.

"Erik!" Charles answers. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm fine. I'm good. I got to see Jason and Kurt tonight."

"So you said! How are they?"

"Well, Jason started out a little cranky over the latest project he's working on, but he cheered up a lot once he and Kurt made it here. Kurt's doing well. He and I might get together sometime soon to hang out."

"Kurt's lovely," Charles says. "I'm sure you'd have loads of fun."

"We'll see," Erik says with a snort. Now that Kurt and Jason have gone, and he's not caught up in the idea of playing dress-up for Charles, the prospect of clothes shopping doesn't really appeal, even with a friend. But it would be nice if his look suited how he feels these days. And Kurt's probably right that if anyone knows how to find non-normative clothes, it's a switch who also happens to be a clotheshound. "How were Alex and Armando?"

"Good, too," Charles says. "It was nice finally getting to share stories about Mill Point. They've been several times. They both remembered John. I'm surprised he didn't tell me to say hi to them."

"Maybe it wouldn't have occurred to him unless you mentioned them first."

"Oh, that's true-- the way his ability works, it's possible he doesn't know we're friends, and so he couldn't see me coming back to New York and spending time with them. How fascinating." Charles laughs. "Do you know, I had a student once who had limited precognition, but only in a three-foot radius? So if someone stepped close to her, she could tell what they were about to say, or she could know if she was about to knock a lamp over and such, but anything out of her radius was opaque."

"That _is_ an interesting mutation," Erik agrees. "Precognition seems like it might make life complicated."

"Maybe. Though I'm sure there are times it would also be very comforting. I wouldn't mind to know a bit more about the future myself."

There's no missing the implication, even though Charles's tone is light. Erik sighs softly. "I miss you. You do know that, don't you? You feel it?"

"I feel it," Charles murmurs.

For a minute or two, Erik just stays quiet, hoping that Charles really can tell what he's feeling-- that he misses Charles, that he wishes he could _feel_ Charles from here. His emotions, not just his location, although that helps.

"What's on tomorrow's agenda?" Charles asks at last, breaking the silence.

"Work," Erik sighs. Though that reminds him... "Jason had an odd idea. I might bring it up at work tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Well, he pointed out I didn't take my seeker leave. So I thought maybe I could use that to get a little time off soon, even though I don't have any vacation time right now."

"That would be wonderful!" Charles sounds more genuinely enthusiastic about that than about anything in this conversation so far, not that Erik can blame him. Seeing Charles again in person-- preferably before his marks have faded-- sounds better than almost anything else Erik can think of. Well, short of mutant privacy laws and hate crime bills being pushed through, and dedicated mutant education facilities in every state... okay, better than anything _personal_ he can think of.

"Don't make any plans yet," Erik warns him. "I have to get the time off, and I don't know how much it'll be-- since we've already found each other, I doubt I can get as much time as someone actually taking a seeker trip. But when I find out how much I can take, and when--"

"Just give me the time, I'll be there," Charles says. "Well, I suppose a place would be good, as well."

Erik laughs-- and then pauses. "I wonder... could I surprise you this time?"

"How? With what? You know I'll feel you coming..."

"Oh, I knew that. I just meant--" Erik considers it. Charles gave him the information for his private jet timeshare, in case Erik ever needed it. At the time, Erik assumed he just gave it to Erik so that Erik could fly off to New York at a moment's notice, but now he wonders what else he could do with it. Plan a trip for them both? Have Charles flown in to Pittsburgh? "If I wanted to plan our next trip, could I do that and still keep it a secret from you? So you'd be surprised once you got there?"

"I don't see why not," Charles says. "If you made the plans with NetJets and we both let them know not to tell me the final destination until landing, and if you made the hotel reservations--"

"Assuming we need a hotel," Erik says. Best to throw Charles off the scent immediately.

"We won't need a hotel?"

"We _might_ need a hotel. Or maybe I'll make other arrangements. A tent. A houseboat. I could borrow an apartment from a friend."

Charles laughs. "Fine, fine, don't tell me anything. But should I--" He pauses. "Should I put your name on my Centurion card? I don't have to look at the charges, of course, you can still surprise me, but if it would be easier..."

"Centurion card?"

"Credit card. It's an American Express card." Charles hesitates. "It's made of titanium, that's why I thought of having you on that one."

Erik sighs. Charles's money really is going to start driving a wedge between them if Erik lets it. And being able to plan a trip with Charles's money at his disposal instead of having to rely on his own low-limit credit cards _would_ be nice. "If it isn't too much trouble," Erik says. "I'll just use it for the trip."

"Perfect!" Charles says. "I'll have one sent out straightaway."

"And I'll pay you back. Or I'll pay the bill, or-- whatever it is I need to do."

"We'll sort that out later," Charles says, which of course he would. Erik decides to let that go for now. "For vacation planning, an AmEx shouldn't be a problem, although... I suppose that depends on where we're going." A teasing note enters his voice; Erik smiles and rolls over on his side, imagining Charles spooned in behind him, punctuating his guesses with kisses on Erik's shoulders and neck... and joining spot. "But if we're going to Europe, I should get you a chip-and-pin card, and of course a Visa might be good--"

"I have a Visa," Erik says. "Don't go overboard, Charles."

"Of course not. No. I won't." Charles sighs. "I've been trying to get a palladium card for the last year, but so far no luck. I'd have tried harder if I'd known we were going to find each other last September!"

"Palladium? Is that a level beyond platinum?"

"Yes, but the card is actually made _out_ of palladium, too."

"All right, fine. Any fancy credit cards you can find that are made out of unusual metals, feel free to get me one," Erik laughs. "Happy?"

"Yes, actually," Charles says, and just like that, Erik feels warm all over. "And you feel-- good...?"

"I was just imagining you here in bed with me," Erik explains.

"Ahh. That would make both of us happy, I think. Above and beyond the usual reasons, it's colder in here than I expected. My feet are freezing, and your calves are warm."

"Must be the bond at work," Erik says with a grin. "Keeping them warm for you and at just the right height for your feet, when we're lying down."

"Oi! That's not a short joke, is it?"

"No...?" Erik blinks; it never would have occurred to him to find anything funny about Charles's height. Every time they're together, Charles seems like he's the perfect size and shape, just right for tucking under Erik's arm or sitting beside him on a sofa. Or straddling Erik's lap, but Erik hasn't let himself think much about that. Not much this evening, anyway.

"No, of course not, you wouldn't. It's fine. I did always wonder if you'd be taller than me." Charles caps that off with a muttered, "Most men are."

"I wouldn't say most." Though Charles is just under the average. Still. "Did you want me to be taller?"

"I just wanted you to be mine."

A shiver runs all the way up Erik's spine at that. "Well," he says, his voice a little hoarse, "you did get that."

"Erik." Charles sounds like he did in Boston, in Mill Point, when he'd close his eyes and pull Erik near, when he was just about to switch to telepathy. He can't do that now, unfortunately. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Erik murmurs. "I'll call again tomorrow. We'll see if I can get that time off."

"I hope so." Charles sighs. "Does that mean you need to get some sleep now?"

"I probably ought to. I'll text you tomorrow, too. And you'll feel me."

"I always do, now," Charles says softly. "Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Charles."

\---

Charles has been to Tailored Jewelworks before, and he's always liked the people and the work they do. Their metals and stones are ethically sourced, and the jewelry they make is beautiful, especially custom orders. It isn't Erik's shop, of course, but that's important when it comes to this particular project. If it were only a matter of custom work, he might very well have asked Erik for help. But he needs a particular sort of ring made, and he wants it done in a particular sort of way. The first part of the ring, he's got already, but it's going to take some custom work in order to get the rest of it completed.

"Are you sure you want us to cut into this?" Stanley asks, wincing at just the thought. "I mean, it's a vintage piece, isn't it?"

"It is." Charles went to some effort to find a ring from the same collection, even the same year, as the bracelet he gave Erik. "But the engagement rings in this line are all wrong. I don't want a stone set into it, I want a piece of iridium."

"Huh," Stanley says, looking at the ring with new eyes. "What kind of setting?"

"Tension-set, ideally."

"Okay, well-- we could do that here, but usually when we're doing detailed metalwork, we send things off to a jeweler we know in Pittsburgh. He's fantastic, his mutation is actually about controlling metal, and this is easily within the range of things he could do..." Stanley looks up at Charles again, and the grin on Charles's face gives something away. "Hm?"

"Well, it's only that this is _for_ said jeweler. Erik Lehnsherr, in Pittsburgh."

Stanley almost drops the ring. "Oh my God! Are you Charles?"

Charles can't help but be pleased with the instant recognition, with the fact that even someone Erik knows through work relations knows that Erik's found his soulmate, that his soulmate's name is Charles. Erik talks about him. His smile grows even brighter.

"Yes, I am-- Charles Xavier, pleased to meet you."

Stanley shifts the ring to his other hand and offers a handshake; Charles takes him up on it. "That's fantastic, congratulations! I knew he'd find you someday."

"Thank you," Charles says. "But I'm sure you can understand why this particular project can't be done by Erik!"

"Ha, of course not, no, no." Stanley laughs. "On the bright side, though, if anything's off, he'll fix it himself. I mean, not that we're going to let this be anything but as close to perfect as possible," he quickly reassures Charles. "But there's our guys, and then there's Erik. I take it we won't need to worry much about sizing, either."

"Erik should be able to handle that," Charles says. "Quite honestly, I think he'll like having some part in shaping his own engagement ring. He made rings for his best friend recently..."

"Ohhh, no wonder a regular stone wouldn't do it," Stanley says. "Iridium, huh? I don't think that'll be a problem. We've got several sources for unusual metals. Rhodium and palladium are getting to be popular for wedding rings these days."

"I've seen them," Charles admits. "But he's wearing a bracelet from this same collection, and I wanted it to match..."

Stanley nods. "Okay, now I get it. How fast do you need it?"

There's the rub, of course; Charles doesn't know. Still, Erik was saying 'soon' on the phone the other day... "As soon as possible. We're still working out plans to see each other again, but I don't think it'll be long."

"We'll get it going right away," Stanley promises. "How big do you want the iridium? What shape?"

They sort that out with a few more minutes' conversation, and Charles puts down a deposit for the custom work-- and the rush on the job-- with the promise to pay the rest when they're finished. Now Charles has to decide whether he's hoping they'll be done in time for the next visit, or whether the next visit will be soon enough they can't possibly be finished yet.

\---

A few days pass. More texts, more phone calls, an occasional burst of activity on Fetbook. And then one afternoon Charles feels a sense of increasing excitement from Erik for hours. He's tempted to text and ask what's going on, but they've got a phone call coming up; he can wait. The anticipation builds for him just as it does for Erik, and by the time his phone rings, he can't keep himself from bursting out with the question. "What's going on? Something good, I take it?"

"Can you get Valentine's Day free?" Erik blurts. They both laugh. Charles settles back on the sofa and smiles; now that Erik's actually managed to ask the question, his side of the bond feels like a champagne bottle that's just been popped. It's wonderful to feel him so happy.

Selfishly, it's also wonderful to feel him so happy when anticipating a visit with Charles. "Absolutely," he answers. "Just the day?"

"Valentine's Day is a Saturday this year. So what about Friday through Monday? Could you take those off?"

"Yes, of course. Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Erik says, mock-reproachfully. "But I did get the Centurion card, so thank you for that. I didn't realize there was a mutant-friendly concierge service for anything! Maybe I should have looked into it on my own."

"Oh, you talked to Olivia?" Charles smiles. It took months to find a concierge representative with AmEx who was not just mutant-friendly but well-versed in mutant culture. It helps that Olivia herself is a mutant, of course. Her ability has to do with enhanced memory skills, and if Charles isn't mistaken, some small amount of boosted charisma. Olivia's been assigned to Charles's account ever since, and of course she'd be the one Erik would be connected to.

"Yes-- she was very helpful. So I _do_ have plans made, I'll just need to call her to confirm."

"The thirteenth," Charles says, smiling. "Not even a week away, now. Are we really seeing each other again so soon?"

"We really are," Erik says. Charles can feel contentment radiating through the bond, and he closes his eyes, luxuriating in that for a few moments. He'll have to call Stanley at Tailored Jewelworks, hopefully they'll be able to be finished by then... if not, he'll come up with something. He's certain of what he _wants_ , what he wants to promise Erik, commit to; much as he'd like everything to be perfect, the promise alone will mean something. He knows that, at least.

"How did you ever manage to get Valentine's Day weekend off at the jewelry shop?" he asks, eventually. "I'd have thought it would be one of your busiest times."

"It is," Erik laughs. "And I started to make the argument about getting my seeker time late, but it turns out I didn't need it. As soon as I mentioned that it'd be our first Valentine's Day since finding each other, three different people offered to help cover for me!" He clears his throat. "Though I also promised to get a whole display's worth of custom designs finished by then, so I'll be pulling several late nights for the rest of the week."

"Understandable. I've seen your pictures lately, your work looks as if it's getting more and more intricate. Raven actually emailed me to ask if you had anything in blue-anodized titanium, something along the lines of those abstract curves you did in the shape of Ms..."

"Blue-anodized," Erik muses. "I don't do any anodization..."

"I wasn't sure! I looked it up... it seems almost as though you'd need a friend with electrical abilities," Charles says. "It's the blue she's interested in, for obvious reasons. Are there any naturally-occurring blue metals?"

"Not that I work with at the shop. And I've mostly been sticking to things that don't require any alloy work. I don't know if I could manage jewelry-grade alloys yet. So it's been reshaping steel or silver or gold-- I did platinum last week, that was fun. It's incredibly dense. Heavy. But I managed," he says proudly. Charles's grin is so wide it nearly hurts; he's rarely more proud of Erik than when Erik's talking about his gifts.

"Congratulations," Charles says. "Maybe sometime I could watch you at work. Working, I mean. Jewelrymaking."

"Sometime, you will." Erik's certainty is so deep it practically settles into Charles's bones. It tickles Charles immensely to think that the first time he'll feel Erik shaping jewelry, it'll be Erik's engagement ring-- oh, he's getting ahead of himself on several levels, now. "But let's think about Valentine's Day to start with."

"Yes, let's do," Charles says cheerfully. "So where is it we're going, again?"

Erik laughs. "You aren't going to slip one by me, you know. I want you to be surprised."

"I'm already surprised that it's so soon! And Valentine's Day! If you let me know where we're going, I can start planning restaurant reservations..."

"Olivia already had suggestions for that, and we've got something arranged for Friday night and Saturday night." Charles can practically see the smug look on Erik's face. "This time, you're not going to have to arrange a thing."

Frankly, so far Charles hasn't had to arrange much-- between Boston happening largely at the Wyngardes' and Mill Point having little in the way of options, there's not been much for him to do. But he smiles anyway. "I could always save my arranging skills for _you_ ," he teases. "What sort of toys should I bring?"

"I'm happy with what we've been doing," Erik says, and his emotions are radiant and thrilled. It _is_ nice to have that kind of immediate feedback from Erik; it's gratifying to know how compatible they are in bed. "But we never seem to get around to using my metal toys, do we? Once we're in the same place, all I want is to get my hands on you. Or yours on me."

"I can't promise that's going to be any different this trip," Charles admits. "But we can try, at least. Which ones do you most want me to use on you?"

"I want to feel your hand on the Eleven while it's inside me," Erik says, his voice lowering. "I want to feel you moving it."

"I want to feel what it's like for _you_ when I move it," Charles says, matching Erik's tone. "I want to feel it with your ability--" and Erik's been so generous with that, the words slip out before Charles can stop himself from saying them. "If that's all right with you, of course."

"We just agreed that you'll be able to watch me make jewelry-- you think I'm going to hold back on you when it comes to metal and sex?" Erik laughs. "Of course it's all right. It's half the appeal."

Relaxing, Charles settles back in his chair and grins all over again. "Only half? And what's the other half, darling?"

Erik's low laugh this time doesn't leave the rest of the appeal in doubt, not really. "I think you'll see for yourself once we've got me filled up with all that metal."

"Now there's an image to take to bed with me tonight."

"Oh, God." Erik groans. "Same here. Believe me, anything you feel from me tonight... it's all because of this conversation."

"And not just because of what you'll be doing with the Eleven on your own?"

"Mmm. No, it's you. It's all you." Charles feels the warm glow of Erik's happiness, and the same feeling echoes through him. "Less than a week."

"Less than a week," Charles says softly. Five days. It's much, much sooner than he'd anticipated, but it still feels like an eternity. _You're never going to learn to be content with what you have at this rate,_ he scolds himself. _He wants to spend Valentine's Day with you. Be grateful for that, at least._

"I need to get dinner," Erik says. "I skipped over that, I was so busy hurrying home to call you. Is it all right if I take off for now?"

"Of course," Charles answers automatically, because really, what else could he do? Ask Erik to stay on the line so Charles can listen to him chewing? No. In five days they'll be together again, and Charles is going to spend those five days prepping for the trip and reminding himself that his soulmate wants to see him again-- couldn't wait to see him again, called him full of excitement and anticipation over seeing him again. "Have a good evening, Erik. I love you."

"I love you, too, Charles. Good night."

\---

 **Charles:** [I was just looking over what I'm bringing on the trip. Will I need a bathing suit?]

 **Erik:** [Nice try! How are you supposed to be surprised if I'm giving you hints?]

 **Charles:** [I'll act surprised!]

 **Erik:** [I'm sure. :)]  
 **Erik:** [You can bring a swimsuit if you want. Our hotel room has a jacuzzi.]

 **Charles:** [I don't think I'll need a bathing suit for an in-room jacuzzi. : >]  
 **Charles:** [At least I hope not.]  
 **Charles:** [I suppose if it's a communal room. Or communal jacuzzi.]

 **Erik:** [Oh, no. I'm not sharing anything about you with anyone else. Other subs can suck it.]  
 **Erik:** [Can NOT suck it.]

 **Charles:** [I was going to say!]  
 **Charles:** [So no bathing suit. Somewhere cold, then?]

 **Erik:** [How about that sports team?]

 **Charles:** [Which sports team?]  
 **Charles:** [I'm told the Yankees have good prospects this year.]

 **Erik:** [I don't know anything about the Yankees. All the kids at Helix are into the Pirates. There's a mutant player in one of their minor league affiliates, so everyone wants to go to Altoona to see him play.]

 **Charles:** [...I followed a little less than 10% of that. Mutant player, that's good, though!]

 **Erik:** [Right, but a field trip to Altoona? Call me a city boy, but I'm not seeing the appeal.]

 **Charles:** [I'm looking it up on Wikipedia right now. There's some sort of shopping centre?]

 **Erik:** [I thought of that. Guess again, it's a railroad thing. It'd pretty much be drive in, see the game, drive home. Maybe a stop at McDonald's there and back.]

 **Charles:** [It doesn't sound so bad to me. Maybe by the time you get around to doing it, I could come out and help chaperone.]

 **Erik:** [For all we know, by the time we get around to doing it, we'll both have to fly back to help chaperone. The first home game is sometime in the middle of April.]

 **Charles:** [I won't mind if you don't.]  
 **Charles:** [Are you okay? Did something just happen?]  
 **Charles:** [Erik?]  
 **Charles:** [Should I call? Your mood just tanked... is everything all right?]

 **Erik:** [I'm fine. Customer return. I'll call you after work]

 **Charles:** [All right. I love you. Take care, darling.]

\---

Erik comes home with Chinese takeout, mainly because the Chinese place he likes is directly on the way between the jewelry shop and home. He gets his phone out of his pocket and dials Charles's number when he's on the way up the stairs to his apartment door, and by the time it starts ringing, he's inside, heading for the kitchen so he can get a beer out of the fridge, too.

It only takes two rings before Charles picks up. "Erik! How are you?"

He sounds worried, but of course he is, he's been waiting all afternoon for Erik to tell him what's going on. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I just needed to make it through my work shift and I was trying not to dwell. Hang on a minute, I'm getting dinner together." Fortunately, with the metal bottlecap still on the beer and the phone made of metal, he can float those and carry the takeout sack over to the coffee table all at once. He takes a seat, flopping back against the couch cushions. "God, I hate collar returns."

"You said it was a customer return..."

"Right. He was returning a collar. The collar he brought his sub when he went seeking."

"Oh," Charles says, and Erik can hear it-- he's figured it out. "Then it didn't work out."

"No. He looked awful. He dug into all his pockets for the receipt, he came up with these crumbled bits of paper-- a receipt from a gas station, a McDonald's. He drove. And it didn't happen for them. They didn't-- whatever happened, he came back with the collar."

"That must be rough. When that happens," Charles says. "No wonder you were so down all afternoon."

"That and I missed lunch. Maybe the chow mein will help some." Erik pops open the carton and fishes the chopsticks out of the bottom of the bag. There's a styrofoam container of pot stickers, too; he pulls that out and sets it aside for now. Shoveling a few bites of chow mein into his mouth, he actually does start to feel a little better-- though that's more Charles than dinner.

"You know, I think I can actually tell the difference between when you're eating something you love and when it's just fuel," Charles muses. "Right now it's just fuel."

"Mm-hm," Erik agrees. He finishes chewing, swallows. "I needed to get home to you. To call you," he says; God, how much better would it have been if he could have come home to Charles, to curl up on the couch with him? Or at his feet. This isn't the first time he's imagined curling up at Charles's feet, and the image doesn't unsettle him the way it did early on, when they were so new to each other. "Chinese place is on the way."

"There's a kosher deli between home and work," Charles says. "I've been there a thousand times, just because of proximity. They do make their bread on-site, though, and the pumpernickel is outstanding."

"That sounds good," Erik admits. "That wouldn't just be fuel, for me; I could just about live on corned beef, if the mustard's good."

"Sadly, theirs is fairly standard brown mustard. I suppose I could get some stone-ground, though, get some of those little reusable squeezy things they put in bento boxes to take along when I'm going there."

"Reusable squeezy things," Erik says, finally smiling. "Is that a brand name?"

Charles almost laughs, too. "I suspect Raven could find them for me. She's astonishing when it comes to things like that-- if it goes into a bento box, she's got twenty."

Erik's made a dent in the chow mein, but he'll have leftovers for tomorrow no matter how much he eats tonight. He's feeling good enough that it's time to switch to the pot stickers-- and given what Charles said about fuel versus enjoyment, he doesn't tell Charles about the switch, he just takes a bite. The pot stickers at Panda House are fantastic, huge and perfectly-seasoned. He definitely enjoys the first bite of one. Can Charles really tell?

"Oh, something good just happened," Charles says. "What's that?"

"Pot sticker," Erik says, mouth still full. He finishes his bite and repeats himself, in case it came through muddled. "They're really good."

"I love pot stickers," Charles says. "Pork or chicken?"

"Pork."

"Mm, even better."

 _I wish I could share them with you,_ Erik thinks, and just like that, he's remembering the dom with the collar again, the haunted look in his eyes. He pushes the rest of the pot stickers aside for the moment. "Charles... when you came to Pittsburgh in September." He thumbs the cap off his beer bottle and takes a quick drink; his throat feels tight.

"Yes?" Charles asks quietly.

"You didn't..."

"--I didn't what?"

Erik feels so guilty for even asking, but he needs to know. "You didn't take my collar back... did you...? After September?"

"Oh, Erik, no. No." Charles's voice sounds thick. "I always imagined we'd choose that together." With even more audible strain, he adds, "In September I brought a leather thong, and I... I still have that."

It's almost startling, how easy it is to imagine it: kneeling for Charles, right there on the bus or even in the middle of the sidewalk, lifting his chin and feeling the leather cord loop around his neck, Charles's deft fingers tying a diamond knot at the base of his exposed throat. 

If their first meeting had been the perfect storybook conclusion to a seeker trip, Charles would have tied on the thong and said, _Thank you for the honor of your submission,_ and Erik would have been able to answer _Thank you for the gift of your care and dominance_ without hesitation. The leather would have stayed there until Charles gave Erik his collar. Only then would the leather thong be cut off to make way for the collar-- the knot cut, never untied, to symbolize that nothing short of death could sever their bond--

Death, or Sebastian Shaw. But he didn't separate them for good. Erik centers all his concentration on the bond, so vivid he can almost see it, like a rope of light leading east... thin, still, only giving him that sense of direction and not the insight into Charles's emotions that he should have, but it's _there,_ it's theirs, forever.

"I know it hasn't been easy, working around my orientation," Erik says slowly. "I know when we first met, I said I don't submit anymore. But I always... when we were young, I'd imagine taking your collar."

"I imagined that, too," Charles says, almost at a whisper. "I would never try to push something like that on you-- it's so important to me that we go at your pace, Erik--"

"But if you-- if I wanted that now--" Erik swallows; it's so hard to put it out there, so hard to admit to things he wants, especially submissive things. But Charles said it, in Mill Point... _I want to recognize you, marry you, collar you, claim you every way there is._ It might not be asking too much.

"Then it's yours," Charles says simply. "Whatever you want. Whenever you're ready for it."

"I want everything," Erik blurts out. "I just-- one step at a time--"

"Yes," Charles says softly. "One step at a time, Erik--"

"--but I _want_." Erik doesn't even know how to finish that thought. Right now, the desire for more with Charles-- for _everything_ with Charles-- is taking over, blotting out everything else in his mind. "I just-- want."

"I miss you," Charles says, voice strained.

"I miss you, too. I need to be with you again, the phone isn't enough, it's not--"

"Friday. We're seeing each other Friday."

"Yes," Erik says, exhaling hard. "Three more days."

"Less than that, it's nine o'clock now, NetJets tells me I'm to get on the plane at nine in the morning and pick you up in Pittsburgh at ten. So two and a half more days."

"Are you counting down the hours yet?"

"Sixty-one hours." Charles pauses. "I probably ought to have pretended to do the math."

Erik laughs a little. "No. I'm the same way. I'm ready for this trip, Charles. I don't know what I'd do if it weren't so soon."

"Soon," Charles agrees. "Never soon enough, but. Soon."

 _Think about the future, not the past,_ Erik tells himself. "I can't wait. You're going to love it in--" Damn, he almost gave it away! He laughs again, this time meaning it a little more. "It's still a surprise! You didn't talk NetJets into telling you, did you?"

"No! No, and I'm so curious. I rarely get surprises."

It warms Erik clear through, knowing he can do that for Charles. And Charles's tone is a lot happier now, too. "I'm glad I get to give you that."

"I'm glad you wanted to try! Most people don't even bother. Even for birthday and Christmas presents. So many times, people just blurt it out... even if I promised not to read them, they assume I'm looking for every little detail."

"How are we going to handle that?" Erik asks, suddenly curious. "Your birthday and Christmas are a long way off, now, but you have full permission to read me-- how do I keep things a surprise when you can always read my mind?"

"Well, it's as I just said-- I'm _not_ always looking for every little detail. I mean, you probably know what you had for dinner on Monday, but when we meet up Friday morning, I won't be reading everything about the time we were apart, I'll be focused on there-and-then. So you could still tell me about Monday's dinner and I'd still be hearing it for the first time."

"But if I had a bigger surprise, something that was taking weeks to set up," Erik says. "It'd be on my mind a lot, surface thoughts and whatnot. Or if I had to take a phone call about it, and was going into another room..."

"I'll teach you some techniques when we see each other again," Charles says. "Shielding and such. You've such a disciplined mind, I'm sure you'll pick it up quickly."

Erik frowns, though. "Shielding-- I suppose that could be useful," he says, though he's not thinking of Charles now, he's thinking of running into Emma Frost in Boston. "But not against you..."

"Don't think of it as 'against' me," Charles says. "With us, it's a partnership-- you'd be doing it _for_ me. If you learn to shield, then I never have to worry about going too far with you-- you'll be helping me by showing me your limits. Like safewords."

"But a safeword isn't there to keep you out, it's there for both of us to know where we stand," Erik argues. "And it doesn't get used every scene."

"Maybe you won't always need a shield," Charles points out. "A safeword _is_ there every scene, though, the potential for it is always there. You can always safeword, and I know it, and you know it--" Erik's frown grows even deeper, and Charles pauses. "Erik-- you _do_ know that...?"

"I-- yes," Erik says, "but I wouldn't just randomly use a safeword with you. You're my soulmate, you're my partner." _My dom._ The only person Erik has ever really thought of as _his_ dominant. "I'd only bring it out if we negotiated its use in advance."

"Well, but if you twisted your shoulder or something--"

"Then I'd say, 'Wait, my shoulder,' and you'd stop, and we'd readjust the cuffs or whatever," Erik says. "Right?"

"Right, but if the first word that comes to mind is 'yellow' or 'red', then that's fine, Erik. All my concordance classes have used safewords, it wouldn't throw me. I certainly wouldn't think badly of you for using them."

"That's good to know. But my point is, a safeword is something I'd rather talk about in advance than just have at the ready all the time. And it's the same thing with shielding. If I could just-- I don't know, hang up a mental sign when I need one, saying 'Charles's birthday plans', then you'd know there was something there, and you could give it a pass, right? I don't need a whole-- I don't know, a bank vault, a steel cube. Because then it's there all the time, and you're always going to wonder what's inside. And usually nothing's inside."

"Erik--"

"It just doesn't seem like that's a good way to build trust," Erik goes on. "I want you to trust me."

Charles pauses for a few long seconds, and then finally says, "Erik... I hope you understand how much it means to me that you're trying to find ways to ensure _my_ trust. Try to look at it from my perspective-- all my life, teaching people to set limits on my ability has been so that _they_ feel safe enough to trust _me_."

"Which is stupid, and mutantphobic--"

"A lot of the people who want those limits _are_ mutants, Erik--"

"Then psi-phobic, if you prefer," Erik says. "I trust my friends not to bug my apartment when they come over, even though some of them probably could. It's not any different with you."

"It's not any different _to you_ ," Charles says, "and I love that about you. But if you're more comfortable hanging out a sign that says 'Charles's birthday plans', then that's how we'll try it for now. All right? Either way, I'll show you when we see each other again in... where was it we were going again? Paris?"

Erik laughs. "Are you trying to get me to tell you early? I thought you were enjoying the idea of being surprised."

"I am! But I never get to play guessing games, either. Would you tell me if I got it right?"

"Hmm," Erik muses. "Yes, all right, deal. If you guess, I'll tell you."

"Will I need my passport?"

"Oh! Yes," Erik says. "Do you have one?"

"Of course. Do you?"

"Yeah, I've got one. There aren't any stamps in it, though. The last time I went out of the country was when I was a kid-- my mom took me to Vancouver, and you didn't need a passport to cross the border by car in those days, just a birth certificate. Mom had that. I ended up getting a passport not all that long ago... I wasn't sure if you and I might end up going somewhere..."

"And now we are," Charles says, sounding happy about it, too. "Vancouver, you said... Vancouver's nice! Is that where we're going?"

Erik laughs. "No, it isn't Vancouver. It would take much too long to get there."

"I thought Jason and Kurt might've sung its praises as a romantic destination," Charles teases. "Didn't they get together over poutine?"

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't the poutine that did it, but if so, maybe we should try to get some."

"So we _are_ going to Canada?"

"I didn't necessarily mean on this trip!"

"And yet Vancouver's much too far, and I'll need my passport! Where else-- oh! Somewhere in the Carribean?"

"Well, that's a shotgun approach; you could just as well have said 'somewhere in the Western hemisphere'!" Erik laughs. "This isn't Twenty Questions, and I'm bonded to an extremely clever man. You'll have to guess location by location, not eliminate dozens in one fell swoop."

"Oh, fine," Charles says, with a light harrumphing sound backing it. Erik suspects he successfully mollified Charles with _extremely clever man,_ though. "Well, then, back to locations... it's nearer than Vancouver, I'll need a passport. That leaves Canada, Mexico, and the Carribean. Do I really need to guess all the Carribean countries individually? Can't we eliminate some of them all at once?"

"Oh, all right," Erik relents. "Let's see-- you'll need to pack warm clothes."

"Well, then, let's go back to the Canadian idea," Charles says. "Toronto?"

"Not romantic enough," Erik says.

"Oh, Toronto can be lovely."

"I haven't been there, but I'm guessing it's not as romantic as where we _are_ going."

"Wait, haven't been to Toronto, or haven't been where we're going?"

"Both," Erik admits. "But that doesn't say much. There are a lot of places I haven't been."

"Fair enough. Hmmm... Montreal?"

"No, not this time. I'm interested, though."

"Then we'll put that on our agenda for another trip. More romantic than Toronto, though..." Charles pauses. "I may have mentioned, romance isn't really my strongest suit."

Erik snorts at that. All the claiming Charles does, and he thinks he isn't romantic? "You're getting close," Erik admits. "Let me think... it's a place where you can go, and stay in the States _or_ go to Canada, either way. But you're there for the same sights."

"Oh!" Charles pipes up, and for an instant, Erik's sure he's going to guess. But then he says, "The Yukon?"

"In _February_?" Erik asks. "You think that's romantic?"

"Well... snuggling for warmth is romantic..."

"We can do that if we want. We'll just turn the heat down in the hotel suite."

Charles chuckles. "That sounds lovely." But the humorous tone settles down as he grows a bit more serious. "I just want to be close to you again."

Not romantic. Honestly. "I want that, too. I miss you, Charles. I'm thinking of you every day."

"So am I," Charles murmurs. His voice drops to a purr. "And every night?"

Erik can meet him on those grounds, any time. He gives Charles a low laugh of his own. "Oh, yes, Charles. Every night."

Groaning a bit, Charles says, "Well, that backfired."

 _Fuck! What did I say wrong this time?_ "Wait, what? Backfired how? Was I not supposed to--"

"No, no, darling. I just mean-- I was trying to tease you and heat you up a bit, but hearing you laugh like that has _me_ in a state."

"Oh! Well." Relief floods through him; Erik's glad he isn't as bad at sexy talk as he'd worried. He lowers his voice again: "Should we do something about that?"

"Oh, God, if you-- yes."

"Then what...?" Are they really going to try to have phone sex? They haven't, yet. Erik shifts on the sofa, stretching out, his dinner completely forgotten. "I don't really know how-- I've never..." Harping on his inexperience probably isn't turning Charles on. It would be so much easier if he could see Charles, touch him. If he could feel Charles sending him emotions directly, instead of feeling that gap where their bond ought to be delivering on those feelings. "Would you like to tell me to do something?"

"If you're up for it--" All notion of joking or teasing has definitely left Charles's voice. "That would be amazing."

"I'm up for that, Charles," Erik blurts out. "I _want_ to... more... I want to do more. With that." Oh, that sounds appealing.

Or maybe it does. Charles breathes out a hushed, "Good," and then he says it again, his voice settling into a lower register, the word going straight down to Erik's cock. "Good. Do you still have any traces of the marks I put on you?"

It's been almost two weeks, and Charles bites hard, but Erik's had to watch them fading off day by day. He sighs as he slips a hand down to his left hip; today, when he looked in the mirror after his shower, this was the only one he could still see. "Only the faintest trace of the bite on my left hip."

"That's too bad. I'll have to work harder at that next time." Erik's eyes nearly roll back in his head. If Charles works any harder at marking him up, Erik's going to look like he has a mutation to turn red and purple. "For now, then, take your trousers down enough to see whatever's left of that mark. Touch it."

God-- Charles's confidence when he says that, when he's giving Erik an _order_ \-- there's nothing like it, nothing. Erik hovers the phone at his ear and stands up, shoving his jeans down to his thighs. He doesn't go any further, because that's not what Charles's order said-- _enough to see_ , Charles said. Not _strip down naked_.

He lies down, stretched across the couch, and fingers his bruise. To the right of his forearm and fingertips, his cock jerks a little, then settles down, resting against his stomach-- he's completely hard now. No surprise, with Charles giving him orders. "Yes," he whispers.

"I'm just picturing you... I love your body," Charles says. "I can't get over it. I've never seen anyone with broad shoulders like yours and a waist that small." Funny, so often Erik has felt like a beanpole, too skinny to be attractive to anyone... but he has spent a lot more time in the gym since his powers came back, and apparently the muscles that have settled on his shoulders make a difference to Charles. He makes a mental note to keep that habit up. "And your arms, your lovely hands... I haven't really seen you touch yourself yet, and that seems like a terrible oversight, just now."

"When we're together, I'm much too busy trying to get my hands on _you_ ," Erik laughs. "And you don't seem to be able to resist touching me, either. It's amazing. No one's ever felt that way about me."

"I can't imagine being near you without wanting to touch you. Kiss you. What I should do is guide your hands and put them where I want them. Then I get to touch you _and_ watch you touch yourself."

 _Guide your hands..._ Erik can just imagine it, God, Charles's power brought to bear on Erik's body. He's breathless all over again, his arousal spiking into new heights. "Yes. Yes, you should do that, Charles." Ahh, but that's not how a real sub would ask for it, is it? And even if Erik doesn't have the years of experience he should... he can at least offer up _something_. "Please."

It does the trick. Charles's voice grows still more confident as he says, "I wish I could do that now. I'd have you take your shirt off and run your hands down your chest and stomach and back up again... stroke over your collarbone, and your throat..."

"I could do that for you. Here. Now," Erik offers. "My shirt-- it won't take much to get it off, Charles." Here it is, something he can really do for his dominant, even from 380 miles away. He takes a deep breath and goes for it: "May I?"

"Yes, Erik, do that." Oh, God, orders from Charles... Erik can't imagine much that would turn him on harder and faster than that. He floats his phone to the side and strips off his t-shirt. "Thank you, darling."

Charles asked for more than just his shirt, though. Or at least he was fantasizing about it. Erik keeps his phone floating to the side and touches his chest with both hands. "All right, my hands... I'm touching my chest... and moving down..."

"I love your chest," Charles says, his voice low and rapt, nearly making Erik blush. Erik does have to close his eyes; he doesn't know if he can look at his own chest and hear that tone in Charles's voice and still be convinced they're talking about the same man. "And I love how sensitive your nipples are, and how much pain you can take there."

"I love _yours_ , too. I love your freckles." It's true. Erik could spend hours, days, tracing Charles's freckles and licking from one to the next. The words just spill out of him, heartfelt. "You're so beautiful, Charles."

"I'm glad you think so. I'd like to put your hands on your chest and have you pinch your nipples, will you do that for me? Hard enough to still feel it a bit tomorrow, and remember me telling you to do it."

It's difficult to get that much of a grip on his own body, no matter how much of a masochist he is. "I'll try," Erik promises. "I usually use clamps if it's just me..." But he puts his fingers against his nipples and squeezes hard, twists them, hard, even harder... it's _not_ just him, he realizes. It's Charles. It's doing this on orders from _Charles_. That gets him to the point of moaning, his cock jerking against his bare stomach.

Charles exhales heavily-- oh, this is getting to him, too, good. It makes this even better. "That's what I want to hear. God, Erik, when I hear you like that, all I can think about is having you under me... holding you there... making you mine..."

Erik lets the grip on his nipples go, catching his breath. "I _want_ to be under you, and I want you to hold me... pin me... tie me down. But you don't have to _make_ me yours. I am. I always have been."

"Erik..." His name comes out on a groan from Charles, and Erik nearly moans himself, hearing it. "I want you to touch yourself. Wrap your hand around your cock for me. I'm right there with you, doing the same."

Suddenly everything's dialed up to maximum, Erik's arousal pulsing hard underneath his skin. "I didn't know, you didn't tell me!" Someday, goddamnit, Erik's going to be able to feel it for himself when Charles is jerking off-- they'll have the bond back, it'll be theirs all over again. But for now, all he can do is stroke his cock and try to keep up. " _God_ yes--" It won't take much to catch up, not as turned on as he is. "Yes--"

"Yes," Charles moans. "You know if I were there I'd pin you down and mark your neck, I'd have to, you're irresistible--"

"I'd show throat. I _am_ showing throat--" He is, now, his head tilted back, one hand on his cock, the other going back up to his nipple and twisting it, hurting himself the way Charles would hurt him if they were together right now. "God, Charles, I want you, I _need_ you, you have to touch me, you have to mark me, I need that, I _need_ that from you, please, please--"

"I will--" And something about Charles's tone shifts, from arousal and pleasure to confidence and command. "I _am_ , Erik-- those are my hands on you now, I put them there. I'm working your cock and touching your throat."

Oops-- Erik quickly moves his other hand up to his throat, stroking the side of his neck, where Charles likes to bite... and keeps stroking his cock, nice and fast. Charles's hands, here with Erik, his commands moving Erik's body for him. "And it's so good, Charles-- it's so good-- I love it, I love _you_ \-- please, I want to come for you--"

Charles's voice is thick now, in the way it is when he's close, too. "When I hear you say please like that, I just want to _take_ you, Erik."

"When I'm saying it-- when I'm saying it it's because I need to _give_ myself-- to you-- oh God, Charles--" He's babbling now, he hardly knows what he's saying. His hips are moving, his hand is tight on his cock, he licks his lips again and again, desperate for it, for everything. "Please, Charles! Please."

"That's it, love. I'm with you--" Charles takes a breath, Erik can hear it, they're _together_ in this. "Come for me _now_."

Coming on command has never been one of Erik's strongest suits-- the only times he's managed it have involved Charles's hands on him and Charles's voice in his mind-- but much to his shock, he's coming as soon as Charles says the words. He gasps, come streaking up his chest, covering his stomach and his hand, and he has to close his eyes as his vision fills with stars. On the other end of the line, he hears Charles groaning, too, and he's heard that sound enough to know what just happened. Both of them, together, even without the bond to help Erik along... they're so well-suited to each other, so lucky...

Erik doesn't stop until the strokes are nearly painful, though, and when he finally lets his cock go, he slides his fingers through the mess on his stomach, laughing quietly. "Oh... Charles, that was amazing."

Charles sounds as breathless as Erik feels. "It was. I feel so good... and so close to you. Thank you--" For some reason, he stops there, and just says it again. "Thank you."

It would be perfect if Erik could feel a glimmer of Charles's mood from the bond now, but all he senses is Charles's location-- a sense that he's at rest, in a way that Erik doesn't often feel from him. Maybe that's a start. It's something. "It's not the same as being with you," Erik has to admit. "But it's _good_." He laughs again. "It's good to share that way. I never have before."

"I'm glad," Charles says warmly. "Erik... the idea that you'd give yourself to me, the way you said... that means everything to me."

"It... means a lot to me... that you _want_ that from me," Erik admits. It's hard to say that out loud-- shouldn't he be able to trust that Charles wants his submission, as much as he wants everything else? But it's been a sore spot for long enough that Erik can't help feeling pleased and embarrassed and flattered, all in equal measure.

"I want that so much," Charles murmurs, with a little laugh of his own. "Endlessly."

"From me," Erik murmurs. "You want that from _me_." Not just anyone, but _Erik_. And it's not just anyone telling Erik that-- it's _Charles_. It isn't every day Erik's dream dominant tells him that he wants Erik's submission endlessly. Then again, it's only been a few months since Erik let himself believe that his dream dominant was really out there, really wanted him at all.

"No one else. No point. It couldn't begin to compare." Charles's voice goes low as he admits, "I need that from you."

Erik sucks in a breath-- there it is, on the line, and it feels so good and so _empowering_ to hear Charles admit it, so amazing. He just basks in that sensation for a few moments to really let himself feel how good that is. " _Yes._ "

"The way you feel right now, Erik... I don't want to just assume, but you feel so welcoming right now. This feels so _right_."

"It feels right to me, too, Charles," Erik agrees. "You understand, don't you-- it was never that I didn't want to be on my knees for you. I just wasn't sure if I could be myself afterwards. If I could get up on my own. But now..."

"Now?" Charles prompts gently.

"Now-- well, listen to me." Erik smiles. "It's not like it was in Boston. It's not even like it was in Mill Point, with me trying to sleep at your feet. We're here, together--" He winces. "As close as we can be right now, I mean. And it'll be more than that, soon. Really together."

"Really together," Charles agrees. "You do feel different. More assured. Confident."

"Is that good?" Erik asks, frowning slightly. Of course confident submissives can be a good thing, but not every dominant wants to wrestle his sub down. Then again, Erik can't picture it being much of a wrestle, not the way he wants to take the floor every time Charles even glances down at the spot in front of his feet...

"It's very good," Charles reassures him. "I want you that way, Erik, of course I do, but it's most important to me that you feel steady and certain when you're on your knees. Right now you feel-- when we were scening just now, you felt as steady as I've ever felt you. I'm catching a flicker of something else now, though...?"

"Only that I want to be able to do submission _right_ ," Erik says. "I know I'm not-- I know our road has been bumpy. But that doesn't mean I can't be the sub you need. I just don't always know what to do."

"No one always knows what to do," Charles says fondly. "Erik... there's no right or wrong way to submit. There's what feels good to you, and what feels good to _us_. I want us to find that path together."

"Aren't we?" Erik could almost kick himself by asking it so bluntly, but now it's out, there's no taking it back. "I mean... I want to be." _Say it!_ "I want to be on that path with you."

"Then we are," Charles says, and bond or not, Erik feels warm and giddy all over just from the tone in Charles's voice. "We're there together, Erik."

"Friday can't possibly get here fast enough," Erik sighs. "Oh-- but that reminds me. I've got plans tomorrow, I might not be able to call at the usual time."

"All right," Charles says. "Good plans, I hope?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Erik says with a groan. "But I don't want to say much in case things don't go as expected. I'll text when I have a chance, though, I promise."

"Ah! Something for the trip?" Charles guesses.

"If it goes well. If not, then nothing ventured, nothing gained. It's nothing much," Erik says quickly. "But it'll probably take all evening, so don't worry about me if it's a while before I text."

"I won't worry," Charles promises. "But have fun, if you can."

"I'll try," Erik laughs. He glances down at himself and at the now-cool pot stickers on his coffee table. "I think I'll go clean up and polish off my dinner, and then I've got some work to do for the shop. Is it all right if I head off?"

"Of course. Have a good night, darling."

Erik smiles. He's never really been one for pet names, but 'darling' sounds too good coming off Charles's lips for him to even think about objecting. "Good night, Charles."

\---

 **Erik** : [SO TIRED]

 **Charles** : [Tired? You felt all manner of things today. Excited, mostly, I thought? But I guess not?]

 **Erik** : [Kurt took me shopping.]

 **Charles** : [:)]  
 **Charles** : [I imagine that would do it.]

 **Erik** : [On four continents!]

 **Charles** : [That would definitely do it!]

 **Erik** : [In any event, I have many new clothes to bring with me on our trip.]

 **Charles** : [I'm sure you'll wear clothes at least one day out of four. :>]

 **Erik** : [I'm not. ;)]  
 **Erik** : [I'm so jet-lagged, I need a nap before I call. Give me a couple hours?]

 **Charles** : [Of course, darling. Sleep well!]

\---

"It's done? Really done?"

"Just barely," Stanley says, mock-wiping his brow. "When you said you needed it soon, I didn't realize you were going to want it for Valentine's Day!"

Charles is itching to get his hands on Erik's ring, but Stanley doesn't have it in hand. "I didn't realize, either!" he laughs. "Neither one of us has ever had a romantic Valentine's Day, so it didn't really occur to me that he'd be able to spend it with me. And of course he works in jewelry himself, which I know is a busy time of year..."

Stanley shoots him a look. "You think?"

"Sorry!"

"You are not," Stanley scoffs good-naturedly. "And you shouldn't be. I'm so happy for you guys, I can't even tell you." He grins at Charles. "Especially if this means there's a chance I could get Erik working for _me_ when you sort out who's going where."

It's fortunate Charles has such a good poker face, because all he does is shake his head and say, "No promises."

"New York beats Pittsburgh a million ways to one," Stanley argues, grinning. "The food, the sports teams..."

"Apparently there's a mutant in the minor leagues in Pittsburgh. Near Pittsburgh," Charles corrects. "I think that's baseball, but who knows, it might be hockey."

"Oh, Jerry Garland! Get this-- his soulmate was my college roommate's cousin." Stanley grins. "I know, it's kind of a long connection, so no chance at getting season tickets or anything. I just hope he winds up on the Mets when he's in the majors."

Charles makes a whooshing noise as he sweeps a hand over his head, much too far over to be mistaken for the 'getting above one's self' gesture that Armando so often gives to Alex. "Over my head, I don't know what half of that meant." He bounces a bit on the balls of his feet. "And, ah, not to rush you, but--"

"I got it, I got it!" Nick comes out from the back room, holding a burgundy velvet ring box. "Sorry! I was giving it a last-minute polish. Here you go." He hands over the box and bows a little at the waist. Charles got to meet him briefly the last time he was at Tailored Jewelworks, he's the one who does most of the custom work, but now it's Nick's turn to shine. "I hope he likes it. You tell him I worked my _ass_ off, I've never done something that turned out this well before."

"I'm sure he'll be honored," Charles says, flipping the lid of the box open.

Nick has every reason to be proud; this is even more than Charles could have hoped for. The original Cartier "Love" ring still has all its original engraving, and the gold is as perfect and pristine as if it were newly cast. It did need to be cut in order to tension-set an iridium chip in it, but there's no sign whatever that the ring wasn't designed like this from the start.

The chip of iridium has been cut and faceted much like a gemstone. Unlike a gemstone, though, it isn't transparent, so the cuts from below can't show through to the top, giving the chip a design from within. Instead, Nick scored the metal gently at the top, and the square-cut chip has the faintest hint of an X running over it. It would be easy to think it was just a trick of the light, not there at all, but _Erik_ will be able to feel it.

Part of Charles almost shied away from asking for that X, given-- well, given everything. Given how quickly Erik took his original name back when _that bastard_ finally did the world a mercy and died. Given how much Charles doesn't want to presume that Erik would change his name again. Given that Charles doesn't want Erik to think of the engagement ring as Charles's mark on him, not in any way.

But when he thought deeply about it, imagined a faint X on Erik's hand, the need to mark him that way welled up and seized him by soul's-home. He couldn't not ask for that. And after all, with the way Erik's been talking about submission lately... maybe it won't seem like too much.

If it does, well, Erik can smooth away the lines, and Charles won't allow himself to take offense. The rest of the ring is still his, after all.

"It's beautiful," Charles says, and he's surprised to find that his voice is slightly choked up. "Nick... thank you." He looks from Nick to Stanley, and notes that they're both feeling relief chased with huge amounts of pride.

"Thanks for letting us do this for him," Nick says. "He's great. You guys deserve each other."

"You just bring him back to New York as soon as you can," Stanley says. "Deal?"

Charles starts to give Stanley a flippant _I'll do my best_ , but he has to laugh and shake his head. "You two understand, if it turns out to be Pittsburgh, I'll still be the happiest dom alive. But I'll see if I can't talk him into shipping some of his creations your way, how about that?"

"Not too many!" Nick says quickly. "I don't want him putting me out of a job long-distance."

They all laugh at that, and Charles settles up the bill and exchanges handshakes with both of them. "I'll make sure to tell him who did the ring. If he can't tell just by feel!"

"If he can, holy shit, I'll be on cloud nine for a week," Nick says. "Make him guess, I want to see who he guesses."

"Will do," Charles promises, and once the ring box has been packed up in a gift box and tucked into a gift bag, they send him on his way.

\---

"Wow, Erik, you look great today!"

"Hey, new shirt? It looks nice!"

He gets a stream of compliments at work the day after his epic shopping trip with Kurt, which is nice, but when he gets into Helix, Brian says, "Hey, Erik, we've got a new--" and then he just stops, eyes wide.

Erik brushes down the front of his shirt-- what, does he have crumbs? Mustard? Some sort of stain? "A new?" Erik prompts.

"Uh," Brian says. He's still looking at Erik with that same expression, and Erik feels a strong urge to hunch his shoulders, dash back out to his car, and grab a hoodie out of the back seat. "You look-- good," Brian says at last.

"I'm going to Niagara Falls this weekend to see Charles," Erik says, sliding one hand down to his wallet chain-- he might be wearing the tightest shirt he's worn in a good six years, and he might have new jeans that ride low on his hips, but Kurt assured him that a good strong wallet chain was just what the outfit needed to give it that shred of ambiguity. Kurt had also advocated a pocket square in his back left jeans pocket, but Erik had shot that idea down.

"I have absolutely no need to advertise anything," he'd said.

"No, but teasing is a time-honored tradition."

"What good does teasing do me if Charles isn't here to see it?"

"Erik! Monogamy does not mean never _flirting_ ," Kurt had said.

It does to Erik, though. He raises an eyebrow at Brian. "We have a new...?"

"Right," Brian says. He clears his throat. "A new volunteer. His name's Piotr, he's just moved here from Chicago. Let me introduce you-- I think the two of you will get along."

Piotr turns out to be a young man who must be at least six-foot-five, with the build of either a professional athlete or a model. He's also wearing plain black trousers and a red polo shirt, and yet he telegraphs 'submissive' so hard Erik can't help feeling a little envy. It's so easy for some people.

"Pleased to meet you," Piotr says, offering his hand to Erik. Erik takes it and shakes Piotr's hand firmly. To his surprise, Piotr then switches to Russian, and says, "Brian says you speak a little Russian?"

"Yes," Erik says, startled right into answering in Russian in return. "It's been a while. I'm a little out of practice."

Piotr's smile couldn't be warmer, though. "Not at all. You sound perfect." He switches back to English, though, glancing around at the other volunteers. "You're also the one with the metal mutation?"

"Ah, that, yes," Erik says. He waves a hand at his wallet chain, which obligingly lifts itself up into the air. "I can move metal."

"Do it," Brian urges, grinning.

Piotr grins, too-- now a little shy, it seems-- and over the course of less than a second, his skin ripples and _solidifies_ , bright and sleek and _metal metal metal_ , a kind that Erik's never felt before, all over, his entire body, his skin, his-- _everywhere_. Absolutely everywhere.

Erik stumbles back a step in shock and clears his throat. "That's," he croaks, "that's, that's very impressive, I've never--"

Piotr reaches out to him with one hand. "Another handshake now?" he offers.

"That's very kind of you--" Erik means to say no, but he can't think of any polite way to do it. He takes Piotr's hand, and his ability slips from his grasp and slides up Piotr's fingers, down to his wrist, halfway up his forearm, just _feeling_. Piotr gasps and looks down at their hands, and Erik immediately drops his grip and rocks back on his heels, wishing very hard that he'd only worn the shirt today and not the new jeans, too.

"I'm very sorry about that," Erik says. "I don't think I explained my ability well enough. I can _sense_ the metal around me. Sort of like a sense of smell, or--"

"Touch," Piotr says, flexing his hand, still marveling at it. "That was wonderful."

"And not really appropriate," Erik says, cutting a look at Brian. Brian's just standing there looking amused, the bastard. "I'd never ask you not to use your ability, Piotr, but-- when I say I can sense metal, I really do mean _all_ metal. All of it," he emphasizes. "I can't turn that sense off; I don't have 'eyes' to close or anything. So if that's not something you're comfortable with around me, then we might need to come to some sort of agreement..."

"I don't want to make _you_ uncomfortable," Piotr says. He goes back to his baseline form, and Erik exhales, finally feeling his shoulders unclench. "Was that as much a... shock... for you... as it was for me?"

"I think so," Erik mutters. "Would you excuse me just for a second?"

He ducks into the nearest bathroom, leans against the sink, and finally splashes water on his face. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he knows it's Charles without having to dig his phone out. Oh, God, did Charles feel all _that_ from him?

He fishes out the phone-- not without some difficulty, in these jeans-- and looks at the display.

 **Charles** : [I don't mean to pry, but what was that?]

Erik has no idea what to say in response to that. The truth is probably the best policy here, though.

 **Erik** : [Someone at Helix with a mutation I'd never seen before.]

 **Charles** : [It must have been quite the mutation! Pheromone-related?]

Erik groans a little and adjusts himself.

 **Erik** : [I guess so. I don't think he can control the effects, anyway. But don't get worried, not even mutant catnip can distract me from you. :)]

 **Charles** : [Mutant-nip! What a concept. I wonder how many instances of enhanced pheromones are out there? That sort of ineffable mutation could easily go undetected.]  
 **Charles** : [Though even if someone did have enhanced pheromones, you'd think the people around em would need enhanced receptors for it to have much of an effect. Our baseline human sense of smell is not very keen.]  
 **Charles** : [But then perhaps part of the mutation would be the ability to stimulate those receptors, even bring them into being if they weren't already there.]  
 **Charles** : [And I do wonder what effect mutant pheromones would have on animals that rely heavily on them. I suppose the easiest to check would be a cat. Does this pheromonal mutant have a lot of cats? Or attract cats or dogs? You should ask.]

Erik can't help smiling. Leave it to Charles to distract himself with all sorts of questions about mutations. He feels a strong swell of fondness-- towards his _soulmate_ this time, thank you-- and holds onto that feeling.

 **Charles** : [Something else now. What's going on there?]

 **Erik** : [I was just reading all your texts about pheromones and thinking that I can't wait to see you tomorrow.]

 **Charles** : [:)]  
 **Charles** : [Then be at the airport at ten sharp. I expect to have a new mark on you by 10:01.]

 **Erik** : [I'll probably be at the airport by 9:30. :)]

 **Charles** : [Never soon enough. I love you.]

 **Erik** : [I love you, too.]

He slips the phone back into his jeans and shakes his head. Interesting as Piotr's mutation might be, he's no Charles.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**! You have [1] new notification!

 _Friend request confirmed:_ **Piotr Rasputin**

 _Status updated:_ On vacation with Charles tomorrow! Helix friends and shop friends, thank you for covering for me. I appreciate it.  
→ _Piotr Rasputin:_ It was very good to meet you today, Erik. :) Have a good trip! If there's anything I can do for you here at Helix, please let me know. I'd be happy to.  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ Aww, ~first Valentine's Day together~! Have fun and stock up on ice packs!  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Ice packs?  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ You know, for aftercare...  
→ _Kurt Wagner:_ Perhaps you should show me how these "ice packs" would work! :D~?  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ The day may come when the two of you don't flirt in my Fetbook comments...  
→ _Jason Wyngarde:_ But it is not this day.  
→ _Erik Lehnsherr:_ Anyway, Charles, if you see this before you finish packing, don't worry about ice packs. We haven't needed them yet. :)


	29. Working It Out (9/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niagara Falls was possibly the best idea ever.

Charles is up at 6:48, long before his alarm would have gotten him out of bed. He has to force himself not to hurry through his morning routine-- after all, the plane's leaving at nine, and stamping his foot impatiently won't get things rushed along, not this time. The flight plans are filed, Erik's not up yet... _Erik._ He can feel the soothing calm of Erik's sleep pattern, although this morning it's laced with something else. A little excitement. Maybe Erik's having a good dream.

After brushing his teeth and having his morning piss and stepping into a hot shower, Charles starts to feel something more from Erik-- yes, the excitement's picking up, but there's a certain sense of lazy pleasure to it.

A _lot_ of lazy pleasure.

Damn, why is his cell phone all the way in the bedroom? Charles spends a few moments contemplating the merits of dashing to his bedside, naked and dripping wet, so he can send a text to Erik-- but what would he say? _Wait for me? Call my name when you come?_

He dashes out, dripping water all over the carpet.

**Charles** : [If you're having a quick morning with our mutual friend, slow it down. And when you come, call my name. I'll feel it.]

He might not, really, but it's a pleasant enough thought. And now he's freezing. He rushes back in to the shower, just in time to feel a burst of nervous excitement through the bond. He should have brought the phone with him, he hears it chiming from the other room, but ah well, Erik's arousal is picking up for certain now, and Charles has no doubt Erik's doing as ordered.

Which would almost be enough to get Charles off straightaway-- but why deny himself the pleasure of sharing this with Erik? As Erik's arousal starts working its way up again, Charles follows him, stroking himself-- adding a little of the waterproof lube stashed in the shower, and then going stronger, determined to last as long as Erik does.

It's not easy. When Charles said 'slow it down', he's not certain he meant this slow. But steadily, smoothly, Erik works himself up-- oh, yes, that's a brilliant feeling, all that pleasure and excitement, knowing it's for _him_. Charles braces himself against the wall with his free arm as Erik nears his climax-- by now, yes, Charles can tell when Erik's about to come-- and just as Erik's calling out _Charles_ in Pittsburgh, Charles moans out, "Erik, Erik, _Erik_ ," as he comes, too.

Winded and smug, Charles finishes off his shower, towels off, and bundles up in a robe before going out to see Erik's response. As he gets there, the phone chimes again-- another message.

**Erik** : [!!! Yes okay]  
 **Erik** : [Did you feel it? I said your name...]

Charles feels warm all over, even though his hair is still damp and dripping down the back of his neck.

**Charles** : [I did. I said yours, too. :)]

**Erik** : [!!!]

**Charles** : [Only a couple of hours now. I need to finish getting ready! I'll see you soon.]

He does take his phone to the bathroom this time, as he shaves and takes the time to blow-dry his hair. He sees Erik's message come in, even though the blow-dryer masks the sound.

**Erik** : [If I get to the airport early... I'll kneel while I wait for you.]

Charles nearly drops the blow-dryer.

**Charles** : [If you're kneeling when I get there, expect to be dragged off your feet, onto the plane, and bent over the nearest suitable surface.]

**Erik** : [Is that a promise?]

 

**Charles** : [Absolutely.]

**Erik** : [Then I'll be kneeling. Love you.]

**Charles** : [Love you, too.]

It'll make getting dressed a bit more complicated-- Charles can't bear to tamp down his arousal, not with Erik so nearby, only a few hours' wait standing between him and his sub-- his _soulmate_ \-- but this morning, Charles doesn't have a regret in the world.

\---

Erik takes off for the airport about when Charles's plane takes off from JFK. It makes him feel like he's getting closer to Charles already, even though it's going to land him at the airport a lot earlier than he actually needs to be there. With a private plane coming for him, he can drive up onto the tarmac, give the keys to Jason's car to one of the company employees-- they'll get his luggage out and load it onto the plane for him, then take his car to a short-term storage lot so it'll be ready for him on Tuesday morning-- and then wait the rest of the time in the small departures and arrivals area, just in view of the part of the tarmac where private planes pull up to load and unload passengers.

He paces for a little while, imagining Charles up there in the air, just as anxious to see him-- but when it feels like Charles is nearly above him, he goes to his knees, sliding his hands behind his back, his fingertips light against Charles's bracelet. In his new clothes, this position puts a little strain on his inner thighs and cock-- these jeans are very tight! But he can handle it for as long as it takes Charles to land, hop off the plane, and come see him.

Closer, closer... slower, as the plane descends and comes in for its landing... is this close enough, Erik wonders? Could Charles hear him if he reached out?

«I miss you. I miss you so much,» he sends, as pure and bright as he can, focusing hard on where he feels Charles.

«I'm here! I'm here, Erik.»

Erik's breath catches in his chest. Here, he's _here_ , they're only a few minutes apart now. He closes his eyes, his hands clutching each other behind his back. He has to restrain himself from reaching out for Charles's plane; he could probably sense the metal if he tried to line up a huge weight of steel with Charles's location and mental voice, but it would be so hard not to try to help guide it in for a landing. And that would do no one any good.

«We're on the ground!» Charles continues, mental voice shimmering with joy. «We're taxiing over. I see them wheeling out the stairs! Nearly there, darling, where are you?»

«Inside,» Erik sends, and with a bit of impishness, adds, «kneeling,» only to be nearly knocked over on his side by Charles's telepathic exclamation. There were no words in that, no sounds, but Erik can feel Charles's excitement and passion, feel them all the way to his bones. It wouldn't have mattered where Charles had been or who he'd been with-- Erik knows, can truly know, that Charles _wants_ him there, that Charles absolutely does want Erik on his knees.

By the time Charles rushes into the waiting area, cheeks flushed pink from the cold and the wind and the excitement, Erik is grinning so hard he can barely stand it.

«There you are! Oh, look at you.» But Charles is doing more than looking; he bends down and claims Erik's mouth, kissing him intently, so deeply Erik feels himself sliding into headspace with just one kiss.

«Yours,» Erik sends, «yours, Charles, yours, I'm yours...» He keeps his neck tilted, his throat exposed, his mouth open to Charles's firm, deep kisses. Everything about the kiss tells Erik that he belongs to Charles, and it's perfect.

Finally, Charles straightens up-- and for what seems like the first time, notices what Erik's wearing. His eyes widen, and his gaze sweeps down over Erik, from the thin grey henley he's wearing-- skintight, hugging his waist, Kurt promised it looked good and modern and fashionable and not completely slutty-- to the tight pre-faded jeans he's got on. Jeans that hide almost nothing.

But he still has his wallet chain, and when Erik stands up, the heavy steel-toed boots he's wearing are visible, too. Charles clocks those with a look and licks his lips-- oh, God, are they making Charles think about Erik's mouth on _his_ boots? Does Charles own boots like these? Erik feels his whole body draw tense with anticipation, just thinking of it.

«From your shopping trip with Kurt?» Charles asks. Erik nods. «I'm sending him a dozen bouquets of roses as a thank-you.»

«You like it?» Erik feels a bit shy, suddenly, though it's clear that Charles _does_ like it. «I haven't worn sub clothes in years.»

«Not entirely submissive's clothing,» Charles says, stepping in close, sliding his hand onto Erik's wallet chain, and then onto his hip. He presses his toe against the toe of Erik's boot. «I see _you_ in what you're wearing, not just a role.»

Erik lets out a breath of relief. «I'm glad,» he sends.

He doesn't dare reach for Charles, not after all this. He'd be slamming back down to his knees with his face pressed against Charles's cock in moments. The mental image must carry over to Charles, because Charles groans softly and curls his hand around Erik's wrist, over the bracelet Erik wears for him. "Let's get on that plane," Charles says roughly. "I can't wait much longer to have you."

"Neither can I," Erik agrees. He stretches out a hand, calls over his jacket-- it's car-coat length, but the buttons are metal and it's got a metal chain at the back of the collar to hang from a hook. That's more than enough metal these days for Erik to reach for his clothing. Once he's shrugged into it, Charles takes him by the hand and leads the way to the plane, to their four-day weekend together.

\---

Charles promised to let Erik plan the trip, but there was one thing he had to call NetJets and ask for: a plane with a bed in the back, not just a couch. He turned that one over and over in his mind before doing it, but after all the talk about Erik's submission, Charles was reasonably sure he couldn't wait through a plane ride before having him. And having him comfortably-- the couches in the back of a private plane are all well and good, but nothing compares to a bed with custom attachment points for cuffs.

And so when they get into the plane, Charles pushes Erik back, and back, and into the bedroom area, soaking in the pulse of excitement that rushes through Erik's mind and their bond when he sees the bed laid out for him.

"I wasn't expecting--"

"Neither was I," Charles growls, his hands moving up and down Erik's back-- and then pressing hard at his shoulders, encouraging him to bend over at the waist. Erik obliges him, glancing over his shoulder with a huge grin, and Charles presses hard up against Erik's arse, his fingertips tucking under Erik's waistband and dragging him back. "You look incredible, I can't believe you wore this for me."

"For us," Erik says, reaching back with one hand and covering Charles's with it. "I couldn't do this with anyone else. Just you."

Charles groans, his head tipping down. «Say that again,» he says, his tongue sweeping over his lips. «Say it like this, Erik. Just me.»

«Just you,» Erik sends, his voice so rich and full in Charles's thoughts-- it's never been like this with anyone else, never, even people who were accepting of Charles's telepathy never made him feel so wanted, so welcomed. «What should I do, Charles? What do you want from me right now? I want you. I want you to take me.»

Charles's fingers tighten on Erik's waistband. If he had a stronger, more physical mutation, he could rip the denim off him, break through the leather of Erik's belt. He'd ruin all of Erik's nice new clothing, but he could replace it, and the idea of tearing Erik's clothes off and leaving him in shreds-- it's more appealing than Charles can really comprehend. Who _is_ this cave-dom who's tried to take over in every scene they have? Charles has never felt this way with anyone else, doesn't think he could. It's all because of Erik-- Erik, _his soulmate_ ; Erik, his _submissive_. Can he say that now? Would Erik agree?

All those thoughts race through him in an instant, and Charles reaches up to Erik's shirt, tugging at it and getting it free of his jeans. He pushes it up, up the length of Erik's sleekly muscled back (still with those scars, but that time in Erik's life is _through_ , and Charles will see to it that he's never scarred again, damn it, that nothing ever _dares_ to hurt him in any way Erik doesn't want, not ever), up and over his head, and when Erik tries to help Charles get it off his arms, Charles reaches down and grips Erik's wrist.

"Leave it. Leave it around your wrists, for now."

"Leave it like this? Or--" Erik quickly twists the material so it's tight around both wrists, binding them together. His bracelet still shows above the material, gleaming bright against his skin, and Charles is glad for that-- he loves the idea that Erik doesn't want to lose contact with that metal, not even for a moment. "This?"

"Yes." Charles lets out another low growl and bends down to bite Erik's shoulder. Erik moans, his hips moving back against Charles, but Charles holds him down, pins him there, deepens the bite as Erik starts sending words again.

«Charles yes Charles more more _more_ \--»

«You'll get more, you'll get so much more than this, darling, you're going to wear my bruises, you'll _beg_ me for them--»

"Please," Erik gasps aloud, and then, «please,» mind-to-mind, and Charles nearly loses his hold on his sanity entirely as Erik pushes back against him and sends «please, please, please, _mark me_ , please!» as strongly as he can.

«How could I not, how could I ever resist you, you're perfect, everything about you, I love you so much,» Charles sends, thoughts cascading on top of one another. But he's giving Erik what Erik needs, what Erik's begging him for. Another mark, and another, as Erik squirms under him and gifts him with moan after moan, his head tilted to give Charles all the access he could need.

He slides a hand under Erik's stomach, his fingers splayed, palm flat against the hard muscled planes of Erik's abs. Erik sucks in a breath and tries to make space for Charles to touch him-- but the jeans he's wearing are so tight that it's still impossible, there simply isn't room for Charles's hand there. The belt isn't helping, of course. Charles taps the metal buckle with a fingertip. «Open this for me,» he orders.

Dimly, he hears the pilot going through the necessary safety speech, and feels the plane moving underneath them. But all that disappears from his thoughts as Erik tries to unbuckle his belt, finds the leather trapped, and lets out a frustrated groan. «Charles-- Charles, I need you-- please--»

The buckle snaps; both of them feel it. Charles laughs and pushes the leather aside, caresses the button on Erik's jeans in a slow circle. «Now this.»

Erik tugs at it with his ability, and the button comes free. Charles slips his hand lower, touches Erik's zipper-- and beneath it, Erik's cock, hard and straining at the metal. «Can you undo this without doing yourself an injury?»

«If I'm careful,» Erik sends, huffing out a soft laugh.

«Then be careful,» Charles orders. And he feels the zipper part beneath his fingers, slowly, one tooth unlocking at a time. By the time the zipper's all the way down, Charles is almost sweating, whole body anticipating the feel of Erik's magnificent cock, the way his heated skin is going to feel against Charles's palm.

He wondered if there was room under those jeans for anything resembling underwear, and now he has his answer. As soon as he can get his hand into Erik's fly, he feels bare skin, and Erik moans, rocking back and forth against him, hard. Charles wraps his hand around Erik's cock, eases up so that he's got room to move that hand, and gives Erik a few rough, merciless pumps-- the sort designed to get a man off, and get him off fast. Erik's head goes back, his hands clench into fists, his whole body goes rigid, and--

«Not yet,» Charles sends.

Erik hisses. «I can't stop, I _can't_ \-- Charles--»

«For me?»

«Please, Charles, please, please, I need to, it's you I need to it's _you_ , your hand, please, please--»

The words are liquid heat running down Charles's spine; every inch of him craves the sensation he'd earn from Erik if he said _yes_ now. But he craves the sensation of having Erik wait even more, and so he sends, «Wait for me. Wait for me to say. You can do that, Erik, I know you can. You _can_.»

Erik swallows hard; Charles can hear it. «Please...» he sends, his mental voice spiraling down into a moan. «Please, Charles...»

Charles tightens his hand around Erik's cock, but doesn't stroke. «You can wait. I know it. Wait for me.»

Once again, Erik swallows, but this time he nods, his head falling down, his forehead resting on his wrists. «I'm trying,» he sends. «Please, Charles-- touch me, hurt me, anything. Anything, just-- more.»

That _anything_ made Charles hesitate, but _anything, just-- more..._ It isn't just the words of a man lost to headspace. He can feel it through their bond, through the gentle whisper of presence he floats through Erik's mind. Erik's still there, not lost in his submission. Charles slips his hand out from under Erik's body and puts both hands on Erik's hips, leaving a kiss on Erik's back before standing up again. "More," he murmurs. "Tell me what you want more of." He knows Erik's still with him. Does Erik know, too? He has to find out before going on.

«I want your hand on me,» Erik sends. He takes a deep breath. «And I want you to fuck me. And I want you to mark me. God, Charles, I want _everything_. Anything you'd want to do to me.» His mind fills with memories, day after day of the two of them together, night after night of Charles touching him and holding him and making love to him. «And I love that you're still taking care with me, but Charles, don't put the gloves back on. Push me, use me, take me-- you're my _dom_ , I _need_ this from you.»

It's as if Erik's words burn into Charles's mind, and he can't help but meet them with his own. «Yes! Yes, Erik-- I need this from you, too. So much.» He squeezes Erik's hips again. «Roll over,» he sends. «Just as you are now. I want to see you.»

Erik rolls, scooting back into the center of the bed once he's on his back. His arms are still wrapped up in his shirt, his wrists bound, and his jeans are just barely down around his thighs. He looks gorgeous and obscene, like a come-on in a magazine or on a website, and the instant Charles thinks of that he also thinks _no, never, mine, only mine, just for me,_ , and climbs on the bed with him.

«Beautiful,» Charles sends, straddling Erik's thighs and reaching up to pin his wrists. «Breathtaking. There aren't words for how you look to me, Erik.» He bends his head down and puts his lips on Erik's pec, high up near his collarbone. His teeth dig in just a fraction, enough to tease. Erik sucks in a breath and arches up slightly, but Charles keeps his teeth at that barely-there pressure, not giving in to Erik's demand. Not yet. «Are you asking me for something, love?»

For once it's Erik who lets out a growl, this one laced with impatience and amusement. «I want you to bite me. I want you to fucking _mark_ me. By the time we land I want everyone around us to see your bruises on me--»

«That-- _yes_ , you're mine, they'll all see it--» Though with this first bite, they won't; this one is just for the two of them. Still, Charles bites down, sucks hard at Erik's skin. _Mine._ He marked this spot before, in Mill Point, in Boston, and he'll keep renewing this mark over and over if he has to. He wants Erik to know who his dominant is-- _my dom_ , Erik said, and Charles is still riding the high from hearing it-- and he wants Erik to know who loves him, who cares for him, who wants to give him every mark he could ever dream of.

He climbs up further, his mouth tracing a path up Erik's chest to his shoulder, to the side of his neck. The henley-shaped sub's shirt Erik wore today had a low neck, low enough to show off marks... or a collar... for now, Charles bites down hard, giving Erik a bruise that anyone will be able to see. Erik's _his_ , and this mark is the first thing that will tell people so. _He's claimed. He's mine. Hands off._

"Charles, yes, Charles, _yes_ ," Erik pants beneath him, squirming, his hips moving. He's almost found a position that would bring his cock into contact with Charles's trousers, which won't do. Among other things, he'd leak all over Charles's clothes, and as much as that might please Charles, he wants Erik's pre-come on his thigh, his hands, his _body_ , not his trousers. He wants to be able to feel Erik's arousal on his skin.

"Stay here," Charles whispers. "Right here. Don't move." He leans up and plants a soft kiss on Erik's mouth, then climbs back out of bed and quickly strips down, watching Erik's face as he does. Erik licks his lips, tilts his head up for a better look at Charles's body, and the heat of Erik's desire courses through his emotions and their bond, sparking off Charles's own.

"I think I want you just like this, for now," Charles murmurs, coming back to bed. He straddles Erik's thighs again, but this time he makes sure they're lined up, his cock resting against Erik's. Erik bites his lower lip and groans, and Charles reaches up, touches his fingers to Erik's lip. "If you're going to make noise for me, make noise for me. Don't hold back."

Erik nods and lets the bite go, tilting his head up again so he can kiss Charles's fingertips. Charles grins at him and slips the pads of his first two fingers into Erik's mouth, letting Erik suck them, kiss them, rub his tongue against the sensitive skin there. It's an exquisite sight, and feels even better.

«Now,» Charles warns him, «try not to bite...» And with his other hand, he reaches between them and grips both their cocks, stroking them together.

Erik doesn't bite him, but his mouth falls open and he moans again, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. «Charles, please, I want to, you feel so good, I need you, _please_...»

There's lube in a compartment on the side of the bed, other things in little drawers in the frame beneath the mattress-- there always are, usually along with a number of items Charles can hardly imagine using, let alone in flight-- but of course the compartment is a pop-out plastic one, because this is an airplane, after all. There's no sense in asking Erik to bring it out to them. Charles gives their cocks one more stroke and nods, quickly sending, «Hold on, darling,» and then he presses at compartment after compartment until he finds the right one. Lube, at last, even if it's not his favorite brand-- it'll do for now. Charles comes back to straddle Erik's thighs and squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his palm, and then he slicks them both with it, making Erik shudder heavily beneath him.

«Can you bear it?» Charles grins down at him.

«Oh, yes!» Erik manages to get his eyes open. «But can I bear waiting for it, that's the question...»

«And what's the answer?» Charles asks, still grinning.

Erik keeps his eyes on Charles's for a moment, through a couple of long deep breaths, and finally nods. «I'm yours,» Erik answers. «I can do it for you.»

It figures that Erik would say something that makes Charles want to put an end to the waiting for both of them, just muscle Erik's legs up to his chest and plunge into him. He gives them both another stroke, though, and gasps in unison with Erik, both of them struggling to hold on. «You're incredible,» Charles sends. «Tell me, Erik. What do you want right now?»

«You,» Erik sends. «You, touching me or hurting me or fucking me... just _you_ , Charles.» He groans again, eyes finally closing for a moment. «But anything, any of that, _please_...»

Charles moans, too, not certain how much more of Erik's begging he can take without just _having_ him, but unable to stop wanting more of it all the same. «Again,» he demands. «Again, ask me, again...»

«Touch me, hurt me, fuck me, _please_...»

The lightest squeeze to both their cocks is enough to have both of them groaning now; Charles does it anyway. «Beg me,» he sends, too high on the feeling of finally having Erik under him-- under him and _happy_ \-- to hold that back.

Erik's eyes open wide, and he gasps at Charles, rocking up hard into his hand. «Please,» he sends, «Charles, _please_ ,» and Charles can feel it, a floodgate in Erik's mind opening up, «Charles, please, _please_ , please do it, fuck me, do it, please, Charles--»

Charles scrambles for the lube-- where's the blasted bottle, _where_ \-- and spills more of it than he manages to get onto his shaking fingers. Erik's still at it, dear God, still sending «please» and «I need you» and «Charles, please, please» at him, and Charles has a desperate moment where he's not sure he's even going to last long enough to get inside him-- but then he's got his fingers at Erik's opening and he's thrusting in, with two, with three, and Erik spreads his legs for it, head thrown back, throat showing, « _please_ » coursing hot and heavy through Charles's mind.

Thank God for Erik's masochism, thank God for Erik's practice, because Charles doesn't have to spend much time on prep, not much at all-- and then he's got his hands on the backs of Erik's thighs and he's bending Erik in half and he's _in_ , watching as Erik's skin flushes red and his arms tighten from shoulders to wrists, putting enough strain on his improvised bondage that they can both hear a seam in his shirt pop. It doesn't matter, though-- nothing matters except being closer to Erik, feeling the heat of him, filling Erik's arse again and again with stroke after stroke.

«Need you,» Erik sends, his words scattering but the meaning still coming through loud and clear. «Please, Charles, yes, please, please, all of it, all of _you_ , please...!»

«I love you, Erik,» Charles sends, leaning down as much as he can, bracing himself on the bed-- God, if he were just a little taller, if Erik bent just a little more, maybe he could have his mouth on Erik's for this, too. He settles for turning his head and pressing a kiss to Erik's calf, watching as Erik looks up at him with the brightest grin he's seen from Erik today, and Erik licks his lips, nods up at Charles.

«Soon,» Erik sends, «can't last, please, Charles, please, may I, can I, please--»

«Yes! Yes, Erik, come for me--»

He doesn't even have time to get his hand on Erik's cock before Erik's coming, streaking white across his stomach, his chest. Charles wants a photograph of this, a painting, something to hang on his wall and wank off to every day, Erik lying on his back begging for Charles's cock, begging to come, _please, may I, can I, please_ \--

With a sharp cry of his own, Charles follows Erik into it, coming hard, his hips tight against Erik's arse. He shudders as the pulses rock through him-- it hasn't been like this since the last time they were together, that last scene in Mill Point, only this time there was no anger, no conflict, just Charles and Erik, and Erik submitting, Erik _happy_ to submit, nothing could ever be better than this, nothing...

By the time he gets his eyes open again, Erik's untangled his hands from his shirt, and he's reaching up for Charles, trying to pull him down. Charles goes to him, collapsing at Erik's side, pulling Erik in close for a hug that practically threatens to merge them into one person.

«Are you here with me?» Charles thinks to send, reaching up to stroke Erik's hair. «Still here, love?»

«Always here with you,» Erik sends back, turning his head so he can kiss Charles's temple. «I love you, Charles. I'm here.» Charles feels Erik's lips curve into a smile as Erik sends, «Care for a quick nap?»

«With you? Absolutely,» Charles sends back. He squeezes Erik a little tighter, and they doze off together. They may be forty-one thousand feet in the air, but it feels higher than that to Charles.

\---

This is familiar to Erik already, the warm weight of Charles on his right side, the little wisps of thought he collects as Charles sleeps. He can't resist bringing his fingertips up and stroking Charles's temple-- all that power, so much of it, and this is Erik's _mate_. He always dreamed of being mated to a fellow mutant, but Charles's gift is even more than that. Charles is as strong as Erik is, at least-- and Erik's gift is getting stronger every day.

Charles draws even closer to him, sliding a thigh over Erik's, and Erik catches a glimpse of Charles's dream-- is that Erik on a St. Andrew's Cross? Of course it is, although Erik isn't sure they've ever discussed purple body paint... unless that's liquid latex? It doesn't matter, dreams are dreams, and this one vanishes as quickly as the image came.

Erik pets Charles's temple again, stroking it in a little circle, and Charles comes up from sleep just enough to nuzzle Erik's hand, then nibble down to Erik's wrist, mouthing it gently. The gentleness turns into a soft bite, and Erik grins, feeling warm all over. Charles isn't shielding the way he usually does. His emotions slide over Erik, a sense of satisfaction and possessiveness, both of which meld perfectly with Erik's own senses of the same things.

It feels beyond good. It feels _right_. Erik's needed so much, so many things, even in just the last few weeks-- but this is what he's needed the most.

He rests his forehead gently against Charles's, and sends, «I missed this.»

Charles pulls Erik closer into his embrace, his head coming up so he can nuzzle Erik's ear. "...Hm?"

«Feeling you this way. Hearing you, getting those little impressions from your dreams.» He sends back the little image he had from a few moments ago, the St. Andrew's Cross and Erik's body streaked with purple paint, and Charles smiles-- Erik can feel it against the side of his neck. Charles's emotions shift to gratitude and affection, and he kisses Erik's neck, lingering over the marks he left earlier. The emotions spike between them as Charles's tongue traces one of Erik's marks, a hint of possessive pride coming through.

Erik chuckles softly and turns toward Charles, stroking up the back of his neck until he reaches soul's-home. «That, too. All the touching. And having your marks on me again.»

Charles hums an appreciative sound and tilts his head back into Erik's touch. «I don't intend to take my hands off you for any longer than absolutely necessary, this weekend.»

«Works for me,» Erik sends, stroking and caressing soul's-home. He leans in just a hint more and kisses Charles's mouth, that enticing mouth he's been fantasizing about all this time. Reddened slightly from all their kissing, the reality is so much better than any fantasy Erik's had, no matter how good his memory is.

This might be the time to ask. Now, while Charles is happy and drowsy from sex. While he's still feeling that sense of possessiveness, and thinking of Erik as _his_. All right-- now. Erik takes a deep breath and sends, «And... speaking of things that work for us...»

He receives a sense of inquiry in response, though there aren't words around it. He gets that more and more from Charles, a telepathic nudge instead of a fully-formed word, and it pleases him to think that Charles hasn't been able to do that with many people. How many people have invited Charles in, asked for more when Charles offered a taste of his gift?

As much as Erik wants Charles's power to be accepted as easily as his own, he can't help his own sense of possessiveness as he thinks, _Hopefully not many. Mine._

But he shakes that off, leaning back a little to look into Charles's eyes. «Us... me... that.» He glances over his shoulder at the bed, giving special attention to his wrecked shirt. Worth it, to get Charles's enthusiastic reaction when Erik put himself in bondage. So worth it. «Was it... it seemed like you liked it.»

«There's an understatement!» Charles pets a particularly dark bite on Erik's shoulder. «You know I've tried hard not to push. But it feels like you're ready for this. Thank goodness.»

Charles's relief matches Erik's own. It doesn't feel like Charles was impatient for Erik to be ready to submit-- definitely not like he was just putting up with Erik until Erik could be on his knees-- and that makes this easier. If only a little.

«I don't know if you remember...» Charles looks into his eyes, and Erik has to take a deep breath to steady himself again. «But I said, when I felt like I could be on my knees for you, and be steady when I was there... I'd ask you for something.»

Something they talked about, over the phone. Something that Charles clearly doesn't need reminding about, in so many words, because his eyes light up, and he touches the front of Erik's neck for a moment, then traces a line-- _that_ line, the one that could be covered with what Erik's thinking about-- from there all the way to the back of his neck, and then up to Erik's joining spot. «I told you about the leather cord.»

«You said you still have it.»

«I meant... I still carry it with me. I have it now. Erik...» Charles leans forward and kisses Erik's throat, tender, but it sparks through Erik like lightning. That's the place. That's the spot where he'll wear Charles's _collar_. «I'd be so much more than honored, more than happy, if you'd accept it now, and take my collar as soon as we can choose it for you.»

Maybe Erik's getting better at sending concepts of his own, because his mind is full of _yes_ in every possible way, though he doesn't send the word itself. But Charles smiles against Erik's neck and kisses him there again; the sentiment got through.

«There are lots of collar shops in Niagara Falls, but I want something _now_ , too.» Oh, fuck-- there's what happens when he lets his greed get out of hand, they're probably near to landing by now and he's let the secret slip. «DAMMIT.» He laughs anyway. «So much for the surprise! Had you guessed?»

Charles laughs, too. «Mostly! But I still enjoyed the surprise.» One last pet to Erik's joining spot, and Charles rolls out of bed, just long enough to unearth his wallet and bring out the leather cord. He comes back to the bed and beckons over to Erik. «Kneel up, darling. I can't imagine anything better than knotting this on you now, when you're smiling like that.»

It feels like the side of the bed would be better somehow, so Erik slips out and kneels on the floor, facing Charles, fairly sure his heart is showing in his eyes now. «I've wanted this since I was thirteen years old,» he admits.

«So have I,» Charles sends back. They may have been delayed a few years, but this is still every bit as meaningful-- and exciting, too, Erik's heart pounding as he looks at the leather in Charles's hands.

Charles loops the leather carefully around Erik's neck and ties a diamond knot at his throat. He leaves a kiss just above the knot, and then cups Erik's joining spot in both hands and kisses his mouth deeply. Erik's eyes slip closed, but he reaches forward and slides his hands up Charles's thighs, up to his waist. «Thank you for the gift...»

The sense of delight and surprise that radiates from Charles makes Erik feel warm all over. Charles rests his head against Erik's and sends back, «Thank you for the honor. I love you.»

Erik comes fully up on his knees and wraps his arms around Charles's waist, tilting his head up so Charles can kiss him again. Not to mention showing off his throat, his _collared_ throat, Charles _wanted_ him, Charles wanted him like _this_. «I love you, Charles. So much.»

It's hard to tell how long they stay like that, holding each other; the only thing that interrupts them-- and probably all that prevents them from going for another round-- is the soft chime of the intercom, and the flight attendant's voice saying, "Good morning, gentlemen; this is your notice that we're starting our descent. We should be on the ground in twenty minutes. Thank you for flying with us, and have a wonderful Valentine's Day."

Charles squeezes Erik's joining spot lightly. "I suppose that means I oughtn't tie you up and make you beg all over again?"

"You'd have to make me stop in twenty minutes," Erik teases. "Think you could?"

"I doubt it."

"Then we'll probably want to wait to get to our hotel room." Erik draws back and sweeps his hands down Charles's thighs-- good God, the man has fantastic thighs-- and down to his knees. "There were still enough choices left that I could get us a room with a St. Andrew's Cross, and we can probably find somewhere to get purple body paint."

"Purple body paint?" Charles looks puzzled.

"If you'd be into that sort of thing." Erik grins. "We don't have to do _everything_ you dream about."

Charles laughs and tugs Erik up and into his lap, hugging him. «No, not everything.» He tilts his head up and kisses the knot in Erik's leather collar. «We've done the most important thing already.»

\---

It isn't the first time Charles has wished for teleportation as an additional gift, but the drive to their hotel from the airport seems interminable. He and Erik are in a very comfortable town car, with their luggage stowed in the boot and the privacy screen rolled up, but he still doesn't dare do more than hold Erik's hand. If he were to do so much as stroke one of Erik's new marks, he'd have Erik shoved up against the car door, licking and biting his throat, kissing _his collar_ again and again. And the hotel isn't far. _It isn't far,_ he tells himself, over and over.

Erik's thumb sweeps over Charles's knuckles, and a jolt of excitement shoots through their bond. Charles meets Erik's eyes. Even that's almost too much; Charles has to grin and lower his gaze... to Erik's very wrinkled shirt and very tight jeans. Charles owes Kurt more than he can possibly say for the outfit.

«Are you really going to be wearing things like that this whole trip?» Charles asks-- blurts, really, it's the first thing that goes through his mind that isn't _Start begging again, and don't stop until I tell you._

«I did bring some more comfortable things for when it's just the two of us in the suite,» Erik tells him. «Some pajamas, sweatpants... the sort of thing that won't press a bruise or a welt too uncomfortably.»

Charles makes the mistake of looking up at Erik's expression and nearly pounces him then and there. Erik's talking about taking welts from Charles, and he's smirking, his grin wide enough to show his teeth.

«That... might be a good call,» Charles sends. «Erik, you do know that no matter what you wear, I'll think you're gorgeous?» There. He got that out, at least. He still has more than two brain cells to rub together, even though Erik _in his collar_ after a scene where Erik was kneeling and happy about it may have permanently damaged a few.

«I've been confident about that from the first,» Erik sends. «I feel the same way about you. But I wanted clothes that suited the way I feel a little more... and it's not all sub gear, you noticed that already.» He reaches down and touches his wallet chain. «It probably never will be. But I told you I was ready to work on submitting again, and I meant it. Besides...» He smirks at Charles again. «Why not wear things that will make _my dominant_ lose his mind a bit?»

«A bit,» Charles snorts.

«Though now... I think I could have all my clothes off and still make you lose your mind. Between this,» he lifts his wrist to show off his bracelet, «and...»

He doesn't even finish that thought, his fingertips just reaching for his collar, and Charles loses the battle with restraint. He tackles Erik, kissing him hard, one hand pressed against the side of Erik's neck, the leather cord warm against his palm.

«Mine,» he sends, «mine, _mine_ , Erik...»

Of course, then the town car comes to a halt, and Erik presses Charles back very gently as someone opens the door from the outside. Charles growls a little in frustration, but Erik just laughs, climbing out of the car and nodding to the concierge.

"Mr.--" the concierge clocks Erik's leather thong and quickly amends the _Xavier_ that was on the tip of his tongue to, "Lehnsherr. And Mr. Xavier." He nods to Charles. "Your suite's ready, and we'll have your luggage sent up. May I show you inside?"

"Certainly," Charles says, at the same time Erik says, "Please," and Charles nearly stumbles on his way out of the town car.

«Tease,» he sends.

«What? Oh,» and Erik has to hide a laugh behind one hand. «You know, when I'm feeling polite, I do use that word in everyday conversation.»

«And now it's going to make me think of using _you_ every time,» Charles sends back. He spares a fraction of his attention for the concierge, who's talking about where the amenities are, how to take the complimentary shuttle to the Falls themselves, what to do if they want to rent a car or be driven somewhere to explore, shop, or find different restaurants. None of that matters nearly as much as getting Erik into their room, having him there _alone_.

To their surprise, when they get to their suite, the luggage cart is already waiting for them. Erik sends Charles a sense of lighthearted relief. «One less interruption...»

The concierge hands Charles the packet with their room cardkeys, a small pamphlet about "preferred guests" and their options, and makes sure they know where the wet bar, mini bar, and gear bars are, and then everyone's gone, leaving Charles and Erik on their own.

The door's barely clicked shut when Charles shoves Erik into the wall, pinning Erik's hands and standing on tiptoe to bite at Erik's neck, collar and all. «You don't know, you don't _know_ how much I've needed to see this on you--!»

«Yes. Yes, I do, Charles, _Charles_ \--» Erik twists one wrist and wiggles his fingers, and Charles draws back to make certain Erik isn't trying to go anywhere-- but no, he's waving at the door, twisting the lock at the doorknob and setting the secondary bar lock into place.

«Well done,» Charles sends, leaning in again to kiss and lick Erik's neck. The leather has a flavor to it, from months of being carried in Charles's wallet, and from being worn tight against Erik's skin now-- Charles wants to memorize it, to carry that taste in his mouth. That, along with _Erik_ , makes it an experience Charles could never have imagined adequately, barely even allowed himself to fantasize about. His bondmate is here, with him, loves him, wants him, needed this collar around his neck. Charles's collar.

It's so much that Charles can barely decide what to do first, and lets instinct guide him instead. Rational thought has practically fled the building-- if it existed here in the first place-- and now there's only Erik, the sounds of Erik's stuttered, gasped breaths, the feel of Erik's cock under his thigh-- oh, God, Erik's cock, hard and straining from all this, under that soft, thin denim...

«Floor,» Charles sends-- not in so many words, not really, just the sense that there is a floor here, and he wants Erik on it. Erik starts to sink to his knees, but Charles wrestles him further down, flat on his back, climbing on top of him and pinning his wrists above his head. His mouth goes back to Erik's collar, biting again, sucking, there are going to be marks all over where the collar rests, but Charles doesn't want to stop. The only thing that could stop him is Erik-- if there were even a moment's hesitation, if Charles felt the slightest bit of conflict, he'd stop. He could, then, and he would, and he hopes Erik knows it.

But Erik's body and mind and emotions are sending nothing but excitement and encouragement. If Charles let Erik's hands free, he's sure that Erik would be clutching at him, trying to get Charles closer and hold him here-- and the desire to feel that finally outweighs the need he's had to claim Erik by pinning him down. He moves his hands off Erik's wrists, and Erik reaches for him, grabs fistfuls of Charles's shirt and starts tugging at it. Finally, Erik's sending words at him again, the barest minimum, but still words: «You. _This._ » He tugs at the shirt again. «Off! _Layers_ ,» this last in a sea of frustration... yes, true, there's the sweater vest over the shirt and the undershirt...

«You did tell me to dress warmly,» Charles teases, sitting up and pulling the sweater vest over his head. Erik reaches up and helps with the buttons, though from the pace he's taking, Charles suspects he'd rather be tearing them off than leaving the shirt unmauled. He grins; later, he has a surprise for Erik, too, when it comes to wardrobe.

But now he's finally able to get his shirt off, and his undershirt, and when his chest is bare, Erik reaches up hungrily and strokes his hands down Charles's body, moaning softly. "Just look at you," Erik whispers-- and from where Charles is seated, his arse planted solidly against the thick heat of Erik's cock, he can tell just how affected Erik is, just seeing him and touching him.

Charles is under no illusions that he's model material, but the months he and Erik have spent apart have given him no small amount of frustration to work out, and for once he's done that in the gym. He doesn't have a six-pack by any stretch, but he knows his trapezius muscles are strong and well-defined, his shoulders look good, his body's fit. And if part of Erik's reaction is because they're soulmates and they're _meant_ to be this attractive to one another, then so what? Erik's the most beautiful sub Charles has ever laid eyes on, as well. And he's wearing more in the way of clothes than Charles is. That needs to change.

«Shirt off,» Charles orders. Erik obeys instantly, leaning up slightly to tug his shirt off-- easier now that it's so stretched from the impromptu bondage on the plane-- and toss it aside. Charles leans down and kisses the thin patch of hair in the center of Erik's chest, rubbing his face lightly there.

To his surprise, Erik reaches up and cups him at soul's-home-- and then Charles isn't capable of thinking much anymore, just feeling the burst of pleasure that gives him. It's only right that Erik's the only one who's ever been able to touch him like this, that this is a sensation the two of them alone can share-- but Erik presses a little harder, as much to move Charles as to turn him on. Charles sends him a little telepathic sense of inquiry; what is he looking for, exactly...?

Erik sends back an image, for a change, a ginger housecat planting his face on a slender grey cat's side and rubbing its cheeks back and forth. It actually makes Charles laugh against Erik's skin, and he looks up at Erik, amused by the slight flush that's starting to work its way up from Erik's neck. «Scent-marking,» he sends. «Really, love?»

«You started it,» Erik sends back, but he grins anyway. «Really...»

Scent-marking. Just two days ago, Erik's half of the bond lit up with a sense of uncontrollable pleasure and arousal and attraction, and as quickly as Charles got reassurance about that, it made every hair on his body stand on end for an instant. Erik is _his_ mate, damn it, and some mutant with enhanced pheromones has no business making Erik feel like that.

«I'm not a cat,» Charles points out. «But if anyone's going to be covering you with his pheromones, it's damn well going to be me.»

Erik laughs, and Charles comes up on his knees again, grabbing Erik by the wrist. «Come on. This is going to be much more comfortable in bed.»

«Sounds promising,» Erik returns. «What do you have in mind?»

In answer, Charles tumbles onto his back and pulls Erik down on top of him. «Catering to my soulmate's whim,» Charles grins. «Now come here.»

He barely allows Erik a moment to get more comfortable before he's getting a hand into Erik's hair, gripping gently just above soul's home. The placement is part tease and part practical, as Erik no doubt figures out on his own-- because Charles lets his dominant instincts run wild, for once, and drags Erik's head up to Charles's, holding him still so Charles can rub his cheeks against Erik's. «Mine,» Charles sends. «Completely, entirely mine.»

«Yours,» Erik sends back, eyes bright. «More?»

«What more are you looking for?» Charles asks, still keeping that grip on Erik's hair. He lets Erik move, but only slightly-- just enough for Erik to glance over at Charles's armpit and then back at Charles's face, and lift his eyebrows. «Go on, love, ask for it.»

Erik licks his lips. "There was a book I read once-- they were just like this," he tilts his head minutely to nod down at their position, "and the dom had his sub by the hair..." He grins.

Charles grins right back at Erik, tightening his grip on Erik's hair. "You've grown it out a bit," he says. "Since Boston, at least."

"It's more that I haven't been getting it buzzed down. But I like you having enough of it to grip."

"So do I," Charles says. He raises an eyebrow. "Were you going to tell me more about this book of yours?"

Erik nods, a little. «So... the dom ended up taking his sub and rubbing his face all over his armpits. It ended up being an armpit worship scene. There's not much of that in porn,» he adds, possibly a bit wistfully-- it's hard for Charles to tell.

«We're in the wrong decade for that,» Charles says. «If you ever look up porn from the '70s, there's quite a bit of it there. And I do have to tell you that I'm ticklish-- if we do this, it'll have to be with me in control of everything. I mean it! No exhaling until I draw you away, and definitely no kissing and no licking. But if you hold still and let me move you--» and all right, the idea of that is more appealing than Charles ever really thought it would be; he's only done a few of these scenes, and they've always been cut short by his ticklishness-- «then I think we can give it a try.»

Erik nods a little more, tugging against Charles's grip. «Move me where you want me. I'll hold my breath for you.»

He can't possibly know what words like that mean to Charles, to someone who's had an interest in breathplay for years and years-- but that's not something to negotiate mid-scene, not from either side, and so Charles just sends, «Thank you, love,» and tucks one hand behind his head and moves Erik, making sure he's not too gentle about the motions-- for both their sakes. On his end, being gentle would just set off the first round of laughter too early; on Erik's end, being too gentle wouldn't live up to the fantasy. Scent-marking... it's a fairly deep way to put a claim on someone, and Charles can tell how much that appeals to Erik. It's exciting and it's a relief for Charles; he's wanted to put a solid claim on Erik for months now, for years, ever since they were young men and the bond was new.

But this... Erik's going to smell of Charles's sweat, he'll be able to taste it on his lips, breathe it off his own cheeks and chin. And the way Erik's half of the bond lights up with arousal and excitement keeps Charles at it for as long as he possibly can, until the slight roughness of Erik's cheeks comes close to setting him off. He can't bear the idea of going touch-sensitive on Erik, not when there's so much more to do.

He draws Erik back, leaning up to kiss him again. Yes, there-- he can smell it, almost taste it. His own scent, on Erik's face. «Did you like that?»

«Yes,» Erik sends, his eyes still closed. «Could we... if I wanted more, could we... is there anything...?»

Charles chuckles, kissing Erik's cheek. «Oh, yes. I had more in mind than only this.» Finally, he lets Erik go. «Take the rest of my clothes off.»

«Mine, too?» Erik asks hopefully, though he doesn't waste any time in crawling down the bed and planting himself at Charles's feet. Shoes first, then socks, and then he crawls back up-- Erik _crawling_ , God, there's no reason for him to move around on all fours like that except to get Charles's complete and undivided attention. It certainly works. Charles is propped up on his elbows, taking in every move Erik makes.

When Erik's hands go to Charles's belt, Erik licks his lips, stroking his hands over the leather as he slips the belt out of Charles's belt loops. «Later,» Charles promises, «you'll get all you want of that later.»

«Does it have to be later?» Erik grins up at him. «We could do it now. Or now _and_ later.»

Charles half-sits, reaching out and cupping the back of Erik's neck with one hand. «Later,» he sends firmly. «Only because I can't strap you while I'm doing the rest.»

Erik's eyes light up. «I'm not sure what 'the rest' is, but I'm game!» With that, he unfastens Charles's trousers and tugs his zipper down-- with his ability, and won't that be fun, once Erik sees what Charles has done to the rest of his clothing-- and he draws Charles's trousers and boxers down and off, leaving Charles naked.

«Go ahead, yours too,» Charles sends, and Erik's emotions shimmer with relief as Erik divests himself of boots and socks and jeans. Charles turns on his side, licking his own lips as he sees Erik's naked body. «Have I mentioned that I'm enjoying the way you're going commando today?»

«That's not exactly new,» Erik points out. «I usually did.»

«I wasn't sure if that was just for me!» Charles laughs, but quickly stops laughing as Erik kneels by the side of the bed. He reaches out and cups Erik's joining spot, stroking it, caressing... sometimes it amazes him that he ever manages to take his hands off that spot, when Erik's response is so dramatic. For all that Erik's physical response is just a moan, and closing his eyes, Charles can sense how it feels to Erik, having Charles touch him here. _Claim_ him here. Erik's half of the bond lights up like Times Square, and his attention and focus narrow down to Charles and that feeling between them. When Charles touches him here, nothing else matters.

«This is just for you,» Erik sends, opening his eyes so he can meet Charles's gaze. «It always has been.»

«I know, love.» Charles leans forward and kisses Erik gently-- but with Erik on his knees, responding this way to having his joining spot stroked, that kiss doesn't stay gentle for long. And Erik responds in kind, wrapping his arms around Charles's shoulders, leaning forward so he's half bent over the bed.

Charles draws back and traces a fingertip over Erik's mouth. «You really do want that strapping, don't you?»

«Damn right I do,» Erik sends, nipping gently at Charles's finger. «Your soulmate isn't a masochist for nothing, you know.»

Charles nearly tackles Erik onto the floor for that-- but no, he's not going to let his scene plans be derailed quite so easily. «And yours isn't a sadist for nothing. But I like all sorts, not just painplay.» He reaches down and hooks a finger into Erik's collar-- he can't really move Erik around with it, not the way he'll be able to with a traditional collar, one with a heavy metal ring in front-- but just being able to put his hands on _any_ collar that Erik's wearing, a collar that belongs to _him_ , is ridiculously arousing. «Do you still want to play with scent-marking, or would you rather move on to something different?»

«You said you had plans!» Erik grins. «I want to know what they were.»

«Then get back up here,» Charles orders, tugging very lightly at Erik's collar.

Charles rolls onto his back again, and Erik climbs onto him, sending his own little sense of inquiry along with it. In Erik's case, it's an image of a question mark, but it does the job fine; Charles understands. «That's not quite where you'll need to be for this, but while you're here...» He wraps his arms around Erik, sweeps them up and down Erik's long, lean, beautiful back, and kisses him, thrusting up against him, feeling all that warm bare skin against his cock-- oh, yes, he could do this for quite a while, teasing Erik into a near-frenzy.

Which he seems to be doing, and quite successfully. Erik moans against Charles's lips, thrusts back against him, tears his mouth away from Charles's to pant for breath-- and then he starts up, sending «please, _please_ , whatever you were going to do, Charles, please!»

Whatever he was going to do-- how is it possible to think while Erik's begging him like that, no one can blame him for going mindless and lust-maddened from it! But Charles gets his hands on Erik's shoulders and presses down, pushing Erik down the bed, down his body, watching as Erik goes to all fours and eagerly crawls where Charles is pushing him.

«Down,» Charles says, and quickly adds, «don't lick anything unless I tell you to,» because now Erik's head is at cock level, and if it were Charles in a similar position, there's no way he'd be able to resist giving Erik's cock a lick or two. Dozen. But Erik, thankfully, is obedient, and once Charles has Erik positioned where he wanted him-- between Charles's legs, with Charles's knees bent-- Charles can lean up, grab hold of Erik's hair again, and drag his face down, rubbing Erik's cheeks and nose against the insides of his thighs, against his cock and balls, getting Erik marked with _that_ scent. Charles's scent. « _Mine._ »

«Oh, God-- yes, _yours_ , Charles, let me, _let me!_ » Erik's not licking, but he's got his hands dug into the duvet now, and he's clenching his fists hard, his eyes closed, his mouth open. His breath is hot against Charles's very sensitive skin, and Charles rocks up a little more, stroking his balls against Erik's mouth. « _Please!_ »

Thank God he's sending his thoughts and not shouting; that thought comes through with enough power behind it that a shout would have carried all the way down the hall. On the other hand... Charles might not mind terribly if everyone knew his sub was pleading that way for him. So long as they all know to keep back, of course... He rocks up against Erik's mouth and chin again, and feels a trace of saliva streak across his skin. «How badly do you want to kiss me here?»

«So much! Charles, God, so much, please, please let me, please...» Erik's hips move down against the duvet, and if Charles lets him keep doing that, he'll likely get himself off before too long. On the other hand, the way Erik feels right now, Charles doubts that would really get in the way of their scene.

All the same... «Keep your hips still,» Charles warns him. «You can kiss me if it's the _only_ way you're moving.»

Instantly, Erik stills the rest of his body, and leaves a hot, openmouthed kiss against Charles's sac, moaning aloud, the vibrations carrying through to Charles's skin. Charles's eyes nearly roll back when he feels that, but not quite, not yet.

«Lick,» he sends. Erik moans again, and licks from the very base of Charles's sac all the way up and over, left side and then right, again, again... oh, God, he's very, very good at this, and it feels all the better knowing how hungry Erik is to get more of his mouth on Charles's sac and his cock, anywhere Charles cares to put him.

«You can put your hands on my thighs,» Charles sends, but before he can quite get an image through for how he'd like Erik to do that, Erik has his hands on the _backs_ of Charles's thighs, pressing them forward, nosing down until his tongue is rubbing against the spot just under Charles's balls-- "oh, there, _there_ , Erik, yes," Charles pants, startled but pleased. It hasn't seemed like Erik has had an interest in being on the giving end of anal sex, and while Charles has certainly never had any trouble doing all the topping, the idea that it might not be off the table completely... well. Not this scene, but maybe later...

For now, Erik's enthusiasm is breathtaking, his tongue rubbing hard and caressing every sensitive inch of Charles's skin-- without dipping lower, that is. Maybe that's because he doesn't have permission, or maybe he's not ready to go there without an actual order. Charles would be more than fine giving orders, but if Erik were to start rimming him, soon enough the whole plan would be derailed, and Charles still has his original image in mind, the scene that blasted its way into his desires the minute Erik sent that thought about scent-marking.

«Up,» Charles sends, tugging at Erik's hair. «Get up here. I want that mouth around my cock.»

Erik scrambles to get where Charles is putting him, his mouth open wide, tongue resting on his lower lip. «So do I! Please, Charles...»

Charles holds him back, though, just an inch or so. It isn't easy; his cock is straining forward on its own, the urge to bury himself in Erik's mouth nearly consuming him. But he can't resist; he wants to hear more. «Keep asking. You have no idea what it does to me when you beg, Erik, you're amazing, incredible...»

«Charles, please, _please_ , please let me, please, I need to, _need_ to--» And there's why Charles backed him off an inch; Erik licks forward, trying to reach, to make contact with Charles's cock. "Oh, God, please," Erik moans, aloud and hoarse. "Charles, please, please let me, please let me suck your cock, _please_ , Charles, _please_."

With a heated groan, Charles drags Erik in, watching as Erik sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, the sensation almost too good to bear. He finally lets his grip on Erik's hair go, but it's only so he can reach down to Erik's neck and dig his fingertips underneath Erik's collar, gently urging him forward. «More _yes_ more _yes_ , Erik, yes,» Charles sends, his thoughts blurring together now, just sharing his pleasure and excitement with Erik directly. Erik meets him desire-for-desire, though, sucking hard, moving his mouth further and further down until the head of Charles's cock is pressing against the back of Erik's throat, nearly choking him.

Everything Charles feels from Erik's half of the bond and from Erik's mind is in sync: urgency, desire, and _love_ , above everything else. There's a sense of near-floating, almost flying, a certainty Charles has rarely felt from him, and Charles sinks his mind deeper into Erik's in order to feel through that, be certain it's what he thinks it is...

...Erik's so open to him, Charles doesn't know if he's ever felt another mind this way before. Even people who have offered to open up and honestly tried to share haven't felt like this to Charles. Blending, reaching out for him, _welcoming_ him, as if Charles's presence in his mind feels _good_. More than good-- _right_. It's above and beyond being welcomed. Everything Charles feels from Erik's mind carries an implicit message, warm and intimate: _you're home, you're here and I want you to stay._

And even through all that, he can feel what he was trying to reach out for earlier, that sensation of soaring. Erik's gone down before, sunk himself into headspace-- he's even been drawn down despite himself, early on in Boston. But this is different. It doesn't feel like Erik's falling; it feels like he's reaching for Charles and finding exactly what he needs there, in the sex and submission and their connection, mind-to-mind if not through their bond.

«Darling,» Charles sends to him, overwhelmed. «I'm yours, too, I always have been...»

«Mine,» Erik sends back fiercely. His mouth is so hot. Charles thought he could draw this out-- but between Erik's mind and the determined, enthusiastic way Erik is sucking him and licking him, the way he's moving his tongue as if he's trying to draw every last iota of pleasure from him, Charles knows he won't last much longer. « _Mine_. And I'm yours, Charles, I'm yours...»

«Yes.» Charles strokes over Erik's collar, pressing against a bruise he left there earlier. «Do you want me to mark you again?»

« _Hell_ , yes!»

«Then move back. Move back, love.» Charles lets Erik get a glimpse of the image Charles has been holding onto through this scene, Erik's mouth wide open and waiting while Charles's hand moves on his cock. That glimpse is enough; Erik scrambles back, licks his lips, and opens his mouth for Charles, looking up to lock eyes with him. Erik, in headspace, submitting, and _there_ , every inch of him. The two of them together on this, completely.

Charles wraps his hand around his cock and gives himself a stroke, quick and rough, because that's all he needs-- that, and he's coming, streaking Erik's face with it, marking him this way too, his come and scent painting Erik's cheeks and his lips and his chin, Erik swiping his tongue over his lips again and again to take in everything he can. Anything Charles might have tried to send mind-to-mind is absorbed in the huge sense of _mineminemineMINE_ he shares instead, and-- and, God, Erik _grins_ when he gets it, grins ear-to-ear and looks pleased and proud and _smug_.

It's all Charles can do to swab a smear down from Erik's jaw to his collar, making sure to rub it into the thin strip of leather. He's winded and exhausted and so high from dominating Erik this way-- and seeing Erik love every moment of it-- that he collapses flat on his back, in spite of his desire to keep looking at Erik for the rest of their lives.

But Erik solves that problem neatly by climbing up on top of him, and that makes it easy to wrap his arms around Erik and kiss him, deeply, letting his come smear across his own cheeks, too. Erik's cock is trapped against Charles's stomach, still achingly hard, and Charles thrusts up beneath him, letting his slightly-sweaty skin provide a hint of motion and glide for Erik.

«Oh... Charles, please. Can I?» Erik shifts his hips, thrusting against Charles again.

«Yes. Go on, do-- you've earned it,» Charles thinks, still giddy.

Erik tucks his head down against Charles's shoulder, and stretches out a bit more, his cock resting against the inside of Charles's thigh now. «Here?»

It's tempting to say, _a bit lower, darling_ , and see about getting Erik's cock inside him at last, but Charles knows that even now, after coming, he'd need some prep, possibly quite a bit of it. Unlike Erik, he doesn't have an Eleven at home, and it's been fingers-only for months and months now. And Erik is substantial-- delightfully, wonderfully substantial. Mouth-wateringly so.

«There,» Charles sends, and Erik hitches in a breath and starts moving, rubbing against Charles's thigh in a way that makes Charles all the more hungry to get Erik inside him, sooner rather than later. He reaches up and curves his hand over soul's-home, and Erik moans against Charles's neck, speeding up his pace.

It doesn't take long; it doesn't take long at all. Charles squeezes soul's-home in rhythm with Erik's strokes, and with a cry that he muffles against Charles's shoulder, Erik comes, shuddering and shaking in Charles's arms, holding tight.

«I love you. So much,» Charles sends. «You're incredible, Erik. _Thank you._ » And this time, it feels right to add the rest of it: «For the honor... of your submission.»

«Thank you for the gift,» Erik sends back. His thoughts are slightly muddled from pleasure and happiness and orgasm, which makes it sound all the better to Charles. «For caring... and dominanting-- domination-- for wanting me like that, for collaring me, your collar, I'm wearing your collar!» Erik's glee over that makes Charles chuckle and share his own feelings in response, a thrill that matches Erik's note-for-note.

«When we can move again,» Charles sends, «I'd love to take you out shopping for a proper collar.»

«I have to pick _one_?» It's partly a joke, but Charles can feel a little bit of seriousness behind it-- Erik's mind is full of images of collars, leather with and without rings, metal, dress collars, utility collars with multiple heavy D-rings that can be used to position him and make him crawl.

Charles's eyes nearly roll back in his head, and he hugs Erik even harder. «We'll get you one of every kind you like,» he promises. «I can assure you, I won't ever get tired of putting them on you.»

«Good,» Erik sends. It's the last thing he passes across before he starts to drift off, dozing happily in Charles's arms.

\---

Even though they arrived in Niagara Falls before noon, it's getting to be late afternoon before Erik and Charles manage to make it out of their hotel suite. Erik woke up after his nap to find that Charles had ordered up room service, and since both of them were starving, they made short work of the salads and soups and sandwiches. By then, Charles was starting to give Erik one of those looks again-- one of those dominant sorts of looks-- and before Erik could say more than "So, would you like to--" they were on each other, breaking in the sofa, with Erik draped over the sofa's arm and Charles stroking a hand from Erik's joining spot to his temporary collar, over and over.

So now that they're finally out the door, they've got a list in hand. Charles mentions a name to the cab driver, who perks up and says, "Oh, collar shopping?"

It's impossible not to smile at that. Charles is smiling, too. "Yes," Charles says.

"Then you know where you have to go-- Clifton Hill, 'Street Of Fun'! It's got lots of collar shops!"

Charles consults his list. «Well... there _are_ a couple of places that the concierge marked as 'Clifton Hill'. Shall we start there instead?»

«Will I end up with your collar around my neck?» Erik asks. «Then anywhere is fine by me.»

"That'll do fine," Charles tells the cab driver, and after a short drive wherein the driver talks about meeting _his_ domme for the first time-- she's a dancer-- they arrive. Once out of the cab, they both glance around-- and laugh.

"Street of fun," Erik muses. "It does look fun..."

"We might not find a permanent collar here," Charles admits. The street is lined with chain stores, restaurants, and even a ferris wheel. "But I'm sure we'll find things to look at, at least. And try on."

"Try on..." Erik raises an eyebrow at Charles. «You're going to let me take a collar off, once you've put it on me?»

«I always would if I _had_ to,» Charles sends quickly. «For medical reasons, or if it were leather and you were going swimming.»

«Or if it were glow-in-the-dark silicone?» Erik grins. He nods at a shop behind Charles: _Novelties_ , it advertises, and on a couple of mannequin heads in the display case, there are indeed glow-in-the-dark silicone collars, one in classic greenish-yellow, one in bright pink. They're under a blacklight to show off the glow.

«I don't think it would hurt my ego to have you try that on and decide it wasn't right, no!»

Erik laughs and wraps an arm around Charles's shoulders, hugging him close. Charles responds with an arm around Erik's waist, and they head down the street, looking around for places that have a bit more potential.

"What about that?" Charles asks, nodding at one called 'Alternative Play'. The display is a bit more colorful than Erik expected Charles to like-- in the window, there are sparkly collars and patent leather collars and several in metal with long chains dangling from the front-- but it doesn't have anything under blacklight, at least, and it seems friendly enough.

"Sure," Erik agrees, and he uses his ability to swing the door open for Charles.

They head up to the counter at the center of the store, where the meaning behind 'Alternative' becomes more clear-- it's a place that specializes in vegan collars, alternatives to leather. Neoprene, vinyl, even heavy latex are in different display cases, and of course there's a fair amount of metal. It seems more weighted toward female subs and submissives more comfortable in elaborate gear, though; all the collars are chainmail, or otherwise not at all to Erik's style, and the vast majority of the chains are thin and delicate.

"Hmm," Charles says, looking from case to case. "Well... is there anything you'd like to try? Even just for play?"

"The metallic purple one is nice," Erik teases. "With the red edging?"

Charles glances back at him, presumably in an effort to read whether Erik was joking or not. «I'm not serious. Not totally serious,» Erik reassures him. «If we were getting me a red or purple collar, it would be just for fun.»

«Oh! All right, good. Well, I mean, if that were what you really wanted, of course that would be fine, but I had other things in mind. And I did want leather. Not that these alternatives don't look nice...»

«Stop caveating yourself and just say what you like,» Erik sends firmly. «You're my dominant. You get to have preferences.»

Charles's eyes go a bit starry, and he smiles up at Erik, the grin spreading across his face until his eyes are crinkled up at the corners. «Say that again.»

«You get to have preferences,» Erik sends, tongue firmly in his cheek.

Charles rolls his eyes and comes closer, slipping his hands under Erik's jacket, resting them on his waist. «Cheeky. The other bit.»

«Oh, the part about you being my dominant?» Erik leans down and brushes a kiss over Charles's lips. «I thought you knew.»

Charles pulls Erik down by the lapels of his jacket and kisses him a bit more firmly. «I do. But I love that you think of me that way.»

All right, that makes Erik want to stop teasing and go to his knees. «I do,» he sends. «Very much so.»

They pull themselves apart only because a saleswoman is heading to the counter, a little smile on her face. "Hello there," she says. "My name's Tina, and I'd love to help you two out. Are you shopping for a collar today?"

"Yes," Charles says. "We'll want to try a few on, I think. Can we get a closer look at the purple and red one, there?"

Erik bites his lower lip to keep from laughing, but when Tina hands the collar over to Charles, he stops laughing. Charles gets serious, too. Erik slips out of his jacket and drapes it over the display case, and Charles reaches up to press the collar against Erik's throat, his fingertips reaching behind to gently slip the end of it through the buckle.

"Those are definitely your colors," Tina says, which almost makes both Charles and Erik laugh, but Charles turns Erik to the nearest mirror to get a closer look... and it doesn't seem nearly as ridiculous then.

"You look beautiful," Charles says softly. He strokes the collar again, in front. No ring on this one, only the simple buckle in the back, but the quality is nice-- the stitching holding the red edging together with the purple strip is well-done.

"Thanks," Erik says, just as softly. «Well-- if we're not going to find a permanent collar here, I suppose we can at least have some fun.»

«Absolutely.» Charles smiles at Tina. "Not this one, I don't think, but what about that one?"

The second one is a plaid fabric collar, and when they get it onto Erik's throat, it turns out to be flannel. "It's comfortable," Erik says.

"I'm sure it is."

"Might be nice for winters."

"It might!" Charles grins. "I don't suppose you have something in twill?"

"Sure," Tina says. "Let me go get one for you."

When she's out of earshot, Erik does laugh, just a little. "Twill? I thought that was your sort of thing, not mine."

"We might want to match."

"Oh." Erik looks at Charles, not laughing anymore. "I'd like that."

«Would you?» Charles comes a little closer and strokes his hand down Erik's arm. «Sometimes I've thought about us matching-- your suit to my tie, maybe...»

«I only own four suits,» Erik admits. He was too frugal to get rid of the ones he had to wear while he was working in the jewelry shop at the mall, in his early Pittsburgh days, but if he were strapped back into a corset vest, they'd probably still fit. «Black pinstripes, charcoal grey, light grey, dark blue. They're all very much on the sub side, though.»

«We could always get you something new. Something that fits how you feel a little better than those,» Charles sends. His grin turns a little mischievous. «And then we won't have to worry about color constraints.»

«I wouldn't mind,» Erik admits. «Maybe Kurt knows a place where they'd have that sort of suit... but would that defeat the purpose of matching your tie?» It's a fairly old-fashioned way to dress, after all, a sub's suit matched to his dom's tie, and if Erik isn't in a sub-style suit...

«I don't think it would.» Charles's arm slips behind Erik's back. «I like the idea that we'd be stepping outside the norm. Challenging people's perceptions of what it means to be matched and mated.»

«I suppose we can't help but do that,» Erik thinks-- but for once, the slight sense of shame he used to feel about losing his submissive side is gone. It's back now, after all, and even if he isn't ever going to be a traditional submissive-- hell, not even the kind of submissive he thought he'd be when he was fifteen-- he does have his dominant at last. And he's shopping for his collar.

Tina comes back with several collars in hand, all in a variety of twill, tweed, and other assorted fabrics. They're all things Erik would have described as 'nerdy professor'-style... well. He glances at Charles.

«I heard that,» Charles sends with a mental smirk. «The shoe fits, I'm wearing it.» "Would you like to try any of these on?" he asks Erik, aloud.

"Are there any you've got matches for in your wardrobe?"

Charles glances up at Erik for a moment and says, "Probably half of them. Here, try this." He picks out a khaki twill collar and fits it gently around Erik's throat. After they each take a moment to get past the thrill of Erik in another collar, another one he's wearing for Charles, Charles's nose wrinkles. Erik's stomach lurches a bit-- what the hell does _that_... "It's not your color, I'm afraid."

"The light grey, maybe," Tina suggests. "How about that?"

"That would be much better," Charles agrees, and Erik relaxes a little. It's not the sight of Erik in a collar, it's Erik in _that_ collar. All right.

The light grey twill is a hit, but there's really nothing else in the shop that appeals to either of them. Charles buys the twill collar anyway.

"Wear it out, or no?" Tina asks.

"No, I don't think so," Charles says. "We've a bit more shopping to do yet."

"All right, let me just get you a box." She puts the collar away neatly, tucks it into a gift bag, and adds a business card. "If you need anything else, feel free to give us a call."

"Delighted to. And I'm sure my sister would be interested; she'd love the alternatives to leather." Charles smiles. "She'll be getting back from her honeymoon soon, I'll have to send her your way."

Outside, Erik asks, "Raven's coming back soon? How soon?"

"Maybe another month? I don't think she and Irene have particular dates picked out."

A month. And then... surely newlyfounds are going to want space of their own. If Raven comes back and she and Irene move out of Charles's townhouse, then the path would be clear for _Erik_ to... but God, moving away from Helix. From the jewelry shop. From MFMR...

«Erik?» Charles slips an arm around Erik's waist. «Everything all right?»

Erik shakes off the thoughts. It's a month from now. Anything can happen in a month, and it's not as if this will be the last time they see each other between then and now. Erik's not sure he could go a full week without being near Charles, not now. Not after being away from him for nearly two weeks and hating every minute of it.

«Fine,» Erik sends. «Just letting my thoughts run away with me for a minute. Why don't we see if we can find another collar shop, something a little more promising?»

«Love to,» Charles sends, squeezing Erik's waist. «Anywhere you want.»

\---

"You want to stop _here_?" Charles asks dubiously.

But Erik seems to be so amused by the somewhat garish window display that he's nodding anyway. The place is painted black inside-- black walls, black ceiling-- and it has an industrial look to it. Frankly, it looks a lot like a downmarket fetish video, what with full face masks, loads of latex and vinyl and patent leather, and spikes everywhere. Then again, maybe all that metal is what caught Erik's attention.

"It looks fun," Erik says.

Charles shrugs. "A night out like this now and then could be fun, I suppose..."

Erik turns to look at him, both eyebrows raised. "Have you had nights out like this?"

His eyes are glued to a full face mask patterned with steel studs, a zipper over the mouth. "Not exactly. I've done a latex party or two," Charles admits. "And I've been to my fair share of Halloween and Mardi Gras parties."

Erik shakes his head. "I haven't. Yet." He grins at Charles. "Come on, let's check it out."

«As long as you know this probably isn't going to be where we find your permanent collar...»

«Then maybe we'll find something for me to wear for Mardi Gras.» Erik waves a hand at the door, and it swings open for them.

They're both immediately assaulted with an adult-bookstore level of detergent and disinfectant scent. «Well, I guess we know what kind of place this is!» Erik sends, laughter carrying through his thoughts.

«Quite!» Charles glances to the fitting rooms-- there are two sets of them, apparently, because the ones near the front say _Single occupants ONLY_ , and there's a sign with a pair of cartoon subs on it, both of them bent over and exposing barely-covered arses, both pointing toward the back of the shop. _Purchased item fitting rooms in the rear,_ it reads. 'In the rear', really. Charles pretends to scratch his nose to cover a laugh.

Erik's already taking off, though, and something comes through his mind-- it's the image of a fitting-room-style door, with a sign taped to the front of it. _Surprises for Charles_ , reads the sign. Charles perks up at that. «You want to surprise me with something? Here?»

«I don't know yet! Maybe!» Erik turns and grins at him. «You saw the door-- is it working?»

«Yes! I won't peek, I promise.» Charles's grin is stretching wide now. «Shall we look around individually, meet up when we're through?»

«Yes-- but ping me if you want me to look at something!»

«Same goes for you,» Charles says, and they're off, Erik sauntering toward the back of the store, Charles turning around and looking at things closer to the front. They have some vampire gloves, Charles has often thought about using those on Erik... but when he turns one inside-out at the wrist to check the workmanship, it's shoddy, with uneven, unfinished seams. It doesn't really surprise him. None of the things in this store seem really built to last. But if Erik thinks they look fun, then Charles is willing to give any of it a go.

One thing the store does have quite a nice selection of is lube. Charles peruses the shelves and finds a bottle of his favorite brand, along with a few things that have more specific uses... one that's great for handjobs, if not much else, and a few flavored lubes from a reputable brand. Hmm. No reason not to stock up, Charles supposes; he grabs a few more bottles and takes them up to the register.

«No rush, but I've got a few things-- planning on any purchases?» he sends out to Erik.

«Actually, I started a tab,» Erik sends back, smugness filtering through. «Go ahead and add yours on... and then meet me. In the rear.»

«Really?» Charles sends, laughing softly to himself. To think that the last time they went shopping together, Erik hadn't really been in enough of these places to realize that some of them have 'multi-purpose' fitting rooms... then again, the 'purchased item' fitting rooms are a little clearer about their intent. Charles quickly closes out their tab, takes his black plastic bag of lube, and heads off to meet Erik. _In the rear._ Well, someone's going to be doing something to someone's rear, Charles expects.

There are two rows of fitting rooms, facing each other; a sign points around the corner and says "Want to see more? THIS WAY." It has a cartoon domme with binoculars and a lascivious expression, along with a couple doing some sort of bondage scene. Apparently that's where the voyeur/exhibitionist rooms are, then. «Which room are you in?»

One of the doors in this hallway opens, and Erik ducks his head out. "This one," he says softly. "Come on in." His head disappears back into the room, and Charles goes to the appropriate fitting room, letting himself in once he arrives.

It's spacious, mirrored on both side walls with eyebolts near the floor and ceiling on the back wall... a tall, wide bench against one of the side walls... and Erik... is...

Erik is dressed, if one can call it that, in a red patent leather waist cincher and black latex shorts. The waist cincher isn't particularly severe, but it does make Erik's already ridiculous waist that much smaller-- Charles just stares for a moment, wondering if he could get his hands around Erik's waist now. And the shorts... well, they don't hide anything, and Charles can't help wondering if they hurt. Erik's hard, getting harder as Charles looks at him, and the bulge beneath the latex swells up that much more for it.

"One more thing," Erik says. He holds up a collar, red patent leather to match the waist cincher. There's an integrated leash on it-- this leash doesn't come off, apparently. Oh, God. Erik wanted to be leashed? Charles couldn't have imagined it before... then again, this leash is nearly all chain, so perhaps that explains part of it.

The hell with _why_. Erik thought this looked fun, Erik's definition of 'fun' includes dressing up like _this_ , for _him_... Charles's mouth waters, looking at him. He nods. «On your knees, and I'll put the collar on you.»

Erik goes to his knees, facing away from Charles to expose the back of his neck. Charles can't resist stroking Erik's neck, his shoulders, before finally fastening on the patent leather collar. For all that it looks like something cheap and tawdry, it does have a roller buckle, and the clasp is breakaway-- if it were caught on something, or if the leash were pulled too hard, the clasp would pull free at one end of the leather, providing an extra measure of safety for the sub. Charles can appreciate that even as he's hoping that the leash can at least withstand a bit of rough play.

Bending down once the collar's on, Charles kisses the back of Erik's neck, just above the collar, and then up, and up, finally putting his lips against Erik's joining spot and breathing heat against it.

«You like it,» Erik sends, relief marking the words. «You do, don't you? You like it?»

Charles takes Erik's leash in hand and tugs gently, getting Erik up on his feet. Once he's there, Charles grabs him and spins him around, shoving him into the wall hard. Erik's eyes widen, but then Charles is on him, all over him, kissing him and kissing him, and Erik moans, his body softening and going pliant against Charles's, his mouth giving over every ounce of control.

«I like it!»

Erik finally lets a laugh out, muted slightly by Charles's lips. He wraps his arms around Charles's shoulders and hugs him. «It's just for you! I won't be wearing this in public, but... just for you...»

«You thought it would be fun?»

«I hope it's fun!»

Charles steps back and looks Erik over, head to toe. Erik left his boots on-- or put them back on, more likely, given the latex shorts-- and somehow the striking look of those steel-toed boots just matches the rest of the outfit perfectly. Because it's _Erik_ , it's perfectly Erik, a hint of dominance along with an outfit that otherwise screams _use me any way you want, sir_. «I can think of several dozen words... 'fun' would be among them,» Charles assures Erik. «Also sexy, beautiful, staggering, tantalizing...»

«Yours,» Erik supplies.

Cave-dom it is. «Mine,» Charles nearly snarls into Erik's mind, blocking him in against the wall again and kissing him, biting Erik's mouth, curling the chain of the leash around and around his hand. Erik's arms go up, his wrists pinned to the wall behind him, and yes, exactly, that's exactly what Charles wants from him right this instant. « _Mine_ , Erik. I want you every way there is, every way there could possibly be-- you're mine, mine...»

«Yours,» Erik repeats, moaning now against Charles's mouth. «Please, Charles... please, yes, whatever you want, whatever you're thinking about... I want it, too. Please.»

Charles pulls on the leash again, pressing Erik's mouth even harder against his own. «I want to take you. Right in here. I want you to give up your body to me, I want your submission, Erik.»

He's almost knocked over by the surge of excitement and pride those words bring out in Erik. « _Yours_ , you have it, it's yours, it's _yours_. God, I've wanted this forever, I wanted you to want me like this _so much_ , Charles...»

«How could I not? It took all I had to hold back, I've needed you so badly, I've wanted to claim you...» Charles tilts his head up and licks over Erik's new play collar, the strip of skin just beneath it, the leather thong. «Now I have, you're wearing my collar, you're _mine_. All mine. Tell me again...»

«I'm yours, I want to submit to you, I want you to have that, _take_ that.» Every time Erik says it, he sounds more certain. «My submission, Charles. It's yours, I need you to have it, I need you to _want_ it. I need you...»

«I want it!» Charles insists, his free hand roaming down Erik's torso now. He presses his palm against Erik's waist cincher, and moves it lower, to the latex of his shorts. It's thin latex, Charles can feel now, he could probably rip it off with his teeth if he were trying. Clearly the quality of the items here is low across the board, and these shorts weren't meant for repeated use, but they've certainly served their purpose-- Charles can barely think straight for all the ways he wants to fuck Erik now. «Perfect, you're simply perfect--»

As he gives Erik's arse another grope, the latex squeaks a bit, and Erik jumps. «Oh! No, I'm fine, the noise just surprised me-- you'd be amazed what it took me to get into these and I was _sure_ they were going to tear--»

«Believe me, they will,» Charles sends, his thoughts a blaze into Erik's mind, his hand moving back up so he can stroke down Erik's thigh.

«I'm just telling you-- lube _everywhere_ , I'm smeared with it--»

Charles groans, hoping Erik truly does mean 'everywhere'. He rubs his thumb up and down the chain of the leash and presses his other palm against Erik's cock, squeezing, groping harder now. «How does it feel?»

«Constrictive! And _strange_. But the cincher, I like the cincher... it has metal boning.»

«Of course it does...» Charles shifts position to grind against Erik, the angle of his hip firm against Erik's cock, and runs his hand up to feel the cincher, the short metal bones of it running up and down, easily traced with his fingers.

It has even more than the desired effect; Erik moans aloud, and Charles feels the boning tremble under the patent leather. «Yes, yes, like that... like that, Charles...»

Charles keeps the stroke against the leash chain going as he strokes the cincher, too, fingertips rubbing hard against the boning. «Have I mentioned lately? I love your sense for metal.»

«You do so much more with it than I ever hoped... I _love_ that... I do, Charles...» Erik licks his lips and looks into Charles's eyes. «I love you.»

It almost surprises Charles to find that he can feel so many things at once-- cave-dom instincts shouting at him to put Erik on the floor, his curiosity piqued by Erik's reactions to all this metal, sheer naked lust demanding he fuck Erik _now_ , and sweetness, so much sweetness and affection as he smiles back and sends, «I love you, Erik.» Then he lets the smile go wicked as he tugs Erik's leash and draws Erik down into a kiss, making Erik bend his head for it.

Over and over in this tiny room, Erik's said he wants to give over, surrender, submit, but this kiss illustrates just how much. He opens his mouth and lets Charles take what he wants, kissing back but letting Charles lead. It's up to Charles where the kiss goes, how deep it goes, how fast the pace is, and all the while, Erik's sending pleasure and lust and happiness, thrilling at the way Charles is dominating him through the kiss alone. Charles almost groans, it's so intense to feel this way-- all this pleasure, and the heady satisfaction of having his soulmate _give_ himself to Charles. There's no strain, no struggle, no concerns or second thoughts or doubts. Erik's wearing Charles's collar, and they're together on this, on the same page at last.

He's been grinding against Erik for some time now-- long enough to feel Erik's cock reach a point where Charles wonders if it's going to burst through those cheap latex shorts on its own. It's time to give Erik more than just that latex-and-trouser tease of friction, he decides, and orders it: «Here, love, turn around for me.»

Erik starts to move to face the wall, but Charles thinks better of it, directing Erik to lean over and brace his hands against the mirror. Charles is still gripping Erik's leash firmly-- he doesn't want to give it up for anything, and he doesn't have to, not with Erik bent over that way and looking at Charles in the mirror. Erik's hips arch back, inviting. His legs are spread wide, lowering him down far enough that, yes, Charles can easily have him this way.

When he's ready, that is.

«I want you,» Erik sends. «I want you _so much_.»

«I want you. I _have_ you, Erik. Nothing could feel better than that.» Charles reaches up and passes a hand over the ridges of metal in the cincher again. Erik shivers for him, beautiful, just beautiful. But it's time to get Erik out of those shorts, and Charles loops the leash over his wrist, going down to one knee to inspect them a bit more closely.

«I take it you won't mind if these don't make it home with us,» Charles sends, smirking as he slides one fingertip under the shorts at Erik's thigh.

«Won't mind, and won't be surprised,» Erik sends, snorting softly. «If you need-- there's a pocketknife in my jeans.» The thought comes through with a hint of nervousness, and no wonder-- putting a knife in Charles's hands and having him cut off Erik's shorts would mean having that knife very close to Erik's scars, and Charles simultaneously wants to avoid that completely and do anything he can to make sure there aren't any blades near Erik ever again, and to take him up on it, reclaim at least a little of that for Erik, give him new memories of blades, love, and complete safety.

That's not a decision he can make in this mental state. That needs negotiation, conversation. He's skimped on conversation with Erik before-- that last scene in Mill Point-- and he doesn't want to do it again now. «I don't need it,» Charles sends with great assurance, and he reaches up and uses the edge of his fingernail to puncture the latex in a thin spot, tearing it up and down along Erik's arsecheek and thigh. The latex comes free, shrinking down a bit like a shriveled balloon, and Charles does the same to the other side, leaving the shorts in a withered pile on the fitting room floor.

Erik _did_ mean it; he's thoroughly lubed, everywhere the shorts were, and more. The lube was a thin coating over his skin, and now it's a bit sticky, but inside... Charles draws Erik's cheeks apart and leans in, his breath heating Erik's sensitive skin.

«Oh, God! Oh, God, please, please, Charles--» Erik's hands slide slightly down the mirror, making another sort of squeaking sound, but he braces himself again and holds tight. «Please!»

«When you ask me like that, I want to give you anything, everything.» And right now, he wants to give Erik his tongue, licking into Erik's cleft and getting him even wetter. There's lube, but from the taste, it's water-based, easily ignored. The swipe of his tongue is enough to refresh that lube, too, and he draws back and twists two fingers into Erik's hole, making Erik groan.

«Charles... Charles, _yes_ , please. Do it, do everything, give it to me, please, Charles, please...»

«Still up for this?» Charles hooks his fingers down, reaching for Erik's prostate, and when he finds it, Erik scrambles for a hold against the mirror, gasping. «Not too sore from earlier?»

«Don't sound so pleased with yourself,» Erik sends back, his hips working against Charles's fingers now, starting to find a rhythm for the movement. «If I'm sore, it's all because of you, you know!»

«Me and the Eleven,» Charles teases, leaning up to bite one cheek. The lube's tacky there, though, so Charles has to reluctantly pull back. «Wasn't it the Eleven this morning, before I got to you?»

«Well... yes,» Erik admits. «But you're the one who spent all morning and afternoon fucking me!»

«I do seem to remember something like that,» Charles sends, laughing. He rolls up to his feet, jerking open his belt and fly. «How could I resist you, with my collar around your throat?» How could he resist Erik, ever, but especially once that thong was tied around his neck...

The metal in Erik's leash jingles with a quick burst of Erik's ability. «One of many,» he sends. «We're keeping this, Charles. When we get home... there are going to be days I want you to leash me...»

Suddenly the idea of holding back another second is completely absurd, and Charles licks his palm so he can get his cock that slight bit slicker. «You're brilliant, doing this here, I want to see this, I want to see your face while I take you, in your collar and _leash_ , my God, Erik.»

«You like it, you like all of it? You like me like this?» Erik licks his lips, staring into Charles's eyes in the mirror. «Tell me you like it, tell me you like this, please...»

Charles winds the leash around his hand another turn and rubs the head of his cock against Erik's hole, not pushing in at all, just teasing him and letting him feel it. «I love it. I love you like this. I love that you're giving this to me, to _only_ me.»

Erik pushes back insistently, but Charles backs off an inch, enough that they stay in contact, but Erik can't have what he wants, not just yet. «Of course it's only you! I'd never give this to anyone else, never, no one else has had me on a leash, I never wanted it before-- I didn't want half these things before, not the way I want them with you...»

«I know, I know, love-- it's the same for me,» Charles sends, his eyes closing for a moment as he holds himself steady. The leash is still wrapped around his hand, and he presses that hand to Erik's hip, letting Erik feel the metal and the heat of Charles's hand warming it. «So many things I want with you, everything, because it's _you_ , because they can be _ours_...»

«Ours... yes... Charles, this is _yours_ , I'm yours, and I want this, I want this _so much_ , you don't know-- God, I missed it-- it was only right with you--» Charles sees something in Erik's mind, then, Erik holding up a display of memories. A bed with a quilt on top, Erik's limbs long and gangly, kneeling up in bed, naked, before his alarm went off, sending his thoughts and feelings east. It's Erik as a teenager, connecting with him through their bond, thoroughly sunk into submission and feeling at peace there.

«I missed it, too. I missed everything about you--» Everything from back then, when he hadn't met his other half yet, and then after September, after Boston, after Mill Point-- he's been half out of his mind from missing Erik, more now than ever. «--and god knows, I missed this.» His hand comes up to pet Erik's collars, both the leather thong and the red patent leather play collar. «I need this. I need you.»

He's ready, and there's no question that Erik's ready after this morning-- so he drives into Erik, hard, watching as Erik's face transforms for him in the mirror, going from desperation to desperate pleasure in an instant. Erik's eyebrows draw together, his expression forming a plea all its own. «Charles, _yes_ , yes, Charles, come on--»

«Keep asking, don't stop asking, I can never get enough.» It crosses Charles's mind for a moment that maybe they've never had their seeker rush wear off, maybe being apart for so long has led to them being insatiable for each other each time they see each other, and maybe that's a little bit of compensation for how hard it is to be in different cities-- but they aren't in different cities now, not even in different fitting rooms, and now Charles can drive into Erik's body, again and again, fucking Erik as hard as if he's been waiting a year... or eight... or what felt like forever, even though it was only two weeks.

Erik makes a rough sound, but it isn't anywhere near a word. To make up for it, he goes mind-to-mind instead: «Please, Charles, take me, _take_ me, I need you so much, please, God, so good, you feel so good, please, please, please!»

His every thought is full of Charles, and Charles moans as the high from feeling that surrounds him. Above and beyond the pleasure he gets out of Erik's body-- and there's a lot of that-- or the joy he feels when he sees marks all over Erik's neck and shoulder, marks _he_ put there, marks that Erik begged for-- there's the way Erik's mind just welcomes him, as if eight years of separation only made Erik more determined to show Charles that they belong together.

And they do. They do, entirely, Charles has no doubt about that. Right now he can't spare room for any doubts or second-guessing, there's just Erik, just his brilliant, beautiful Erik, showing off for him, submitting to him, watching Charles's expression in the mirror just as avidly as Charles is watching his.

«I want you to watch us. Both of us,» Charles sends. «When you come, watch us both, see how beautiful you are-- Erik, you're amazing, I love you--»

«I love you, too!» Erik looks into his own eyes in the mirror, and his eyes widen at the sight.

Charles still feels excitement and pleasure through the bond and in Erik's mind, but surprise, too, and some sort of triumph over _something_ \-- it's as if Erik's thoughts are saying _I knew it, I told you so_ , but he'll ask about that later, later. «Nearly there, darling?»

«Yes--» Erik leans forward slightly and then pushes back, and gasps for a breath. "Tell me." «Tell me to, Charles.»

«Oh, God, I can't resist when you-- yes, Erik, come, _come_ \--»

It only takes another stroke, and Erik's coming, without even getting the benefit of Charles's hand on him. Someday, maybe it won't just be from being fucked or having his prostate stroked, or ridiculous amounts of arousal-- it could-- Charles could-- he doesn't even dare fantasize about that, or so he's telling himself as he comes, too, imagining the way it would feel to sink deeply into Erik's mind and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, going straight for Erik's pleasure centers and not letting up...

They manage to hold onto each other for a few gasping breaths, but then one of Erik's hands slips down the mirror, and it's a struggle to stay upright for both of them. "God," Erik pants. "God, Charles, I hoped you'd like it, but _this_..."

Charles sinks down on the bench, and Erik goes with him, wincing a bit as his arse hits the leather, padding or no. "How could I not?" Charles asks, leaning over and resting his head on Erik's shoulder. "You're astounding. Stunning. Beautiful." «Words aren't enough,» Charles sends, and just gives Erik all the impressions he's made on Charles over the short time they've known each other face-to-face, how desperately Charles has wanted him all this time, how the mere sight of Erik on his knees affects Charles more than anything he's ever done, or dreamed of doing, with anyone else.

Erik sighs and leans back against Charles, too, at least as much as the waist cincher allows. He wraps his arms around Charles and hugs him tightly. «It's strange, isn't it? How it isn't about what we do. It's about who we're with. I needed it to be you.»

Charles tilts his head up and looks into Erik's eyes, puzzled. «That sounds like there's a story behind it.»

«There is. But not here.» Erik uses his ability to tug lightly at his own leash. «And not like this. If you don't mind taking it off, for now?»

«As long as you won't mind it when it's time to keep shopping for a proper one,» Charles sends, reaching up to stroke the slick patent leather. «This really isn't suitable for everyday wear at all. And I don't want other people seeing you in it!»

Erik laughs softly, and leans forward to kiss Charles's temple. «Same here. I bought some things for cleanup, should we get me out of this and back in my regular clothes?»

«Oh, yes, good call! I should have thought about cleaning-up gear, but all I could really think about was your sign,» Charles sends it back to him, the image of a fitting room door marked 'Surprises For Charles', «and what you might be doing here... believe me, the reality far outpaced the imagination in this case!»

Grinning, Erik turns around so Charles can get the collar off him. Charles does, though he leaves a kiss at the back of Erik's neck where the collar sat. «Maybe someday you'll have a tan line there.»

«I'd like that. A slightly wider tan line, though.» Erik grins as Charles tucks the collar and leash into the paper gift sack on the floor. «I think I'd like my collar to be more than an inch wide.»

«I have ideas, too!» Charles sends. «We'll talk about that after we get out of here-- and I don't know about you, but I'm famished. All this takes it out of me, a bit.» He puts both hands on Erik's waist cincher and grins as Erik draws in a deep breath. «Does this stay or go?»

«Too distracting. It has to go.» Though there's a bit of regret in Erik's mind when he sends those thoughts. Still, Charles helps undo the laces, and they tuck that away, too, digging out the disposable wipes Erik bought-- Lube-A-Way!, advertises the packaging-- and getting themselves more or less dignified again, or at the very least dressed, before heading out to settle up their tab and find a place to have a snack.

\---

"I always feel as if buffalo wings should have something to do with actual buffalo," Charles says, over appetizers and a pot of hot tea. Erik decided to try Charles's Earl Grey this time, and although he thinks it needs a little sugar, it's definitely the kind of thing he can see having around the apartment. Especially on cold days, or cold nights.

"I think if there were actual winged buffalo out there, we'd want to put them in nature preserves instead of serving them as food," Erik says, grinning.

"Well, of course! I mean, I have had buffalo steak, but I always felt a bit guilty about it."

"Did you?" Erik can't remember ever having buffalo, it seems like the sort of thing people only have at those specialty restaurants that rich people go to in sitcoms, places that serve ostrich and emu and buffalo and pheasant. Then again, Charles has probably been to restaurants like that. "I've had wagyu beef, but I think that's the most exotic thing I've eaten."

"Really?" Charles perks up. "I'll have to look into places to take you-- even here, I'm sure we could come by something interesting."

"We have plans for here!" Erik says quickly. "At least tomorrow, and Sunday night."

"But that still leaves tonight, plus lunch tomorrow--"

"Oh, we're going to be able to leave the room before noon tomorrow?"

Charles's gaze goes instantly hot. "Well-- possibly not lunch, then. But Monday--" he falters-- "for breakfast, something..."

Erik reaches across the table and squeezes Charles's hand. «Can we agree not to talk about Monday until we get there?» he asks. «I can't even... I don't want to think about it.»

«I don't, either,» Charles admits, turning his hand so he can lace his fingers with Erik's. «All right, settled. Monday doesn't exist.»

A weight lifts off Erik's shoulders when he hears that, and he nods with relief. «Agreed.»

«Where were we... well, maybe I can think of something for dinner tonight.»

"Only if we find my collar first," Erik says, running his thumb over Charles's. "I don't plan on going back to the hotel without a collar on. A real one, one that we'll want me to keep."

Again, Charles's eyes go hot. "Fine by me," he says, voice a little throaty. "I think in the long term, we'll want something bespoke-- but I'm sure that we'll come across something we like here. Did you have ideas?"

"I work in a jewelry shop," Erik says dryly. "I've had ideas every _day_."

Charles licks his lips, his hand tightening on Erik's. "Have you?"

"But I want it to be something you choose for me. So... maybe we should start with your ideas, and I'll tell you if there's anything I don't like, or anything I'd rather have."

Charles sits back a little, clearing his throat. "I've thought a lot about it, but mostly I'd look at collars and imagine them on you... and thinking of _any_ of them on your neck usually derailed things straight into fantasy territory and terminal distraction..."

"Oh," Erik says, sitting up straighter. He might not have the posture of a classically trained sub, but thinking about Charles fantasizing about him that way still makes him want to look the part. "Well... what I've thought about the most is something in solid, heavy leather, with an O-ring or a D-ring in front. I don't want to be leashed all the time, but I do want metal on the collar in the front like that, and... I do want a leash _sometimes_."

There goes Charles's tongue again, sweeping over his lower lip this time. "That sounds wonderful to me. Is that what you want as your commitment collar? For daily wear?"

"I'm not sure. I think I'd want that most days-- but of course there are times it's awkward to be wearing a heavy collar, and I do want metal. A chain, possibly. Something simple-- no exotic alloys for this, and I want it to be something that comes off, nothing sealed on, not even with my power the way it is now, I just--" He's babbling now, he didn't mean to bring Sebastian into this. "I don't think I'd like it. I'm sorry."

Charles has turned more serious now, no more lustful glances, and his lip-licking has been replaced by a bite to his lower lip. «You have nothing to apologize for,» Charles sends. He leans over the table, pulling Erik toward him, and kisses him gently before sitting back down. «I want you to have that choice. I'd be happiest knowing that you're wearing my collar because you _want_ it there.»

At that, Erik can finally relax. «Believe me, Charles, I do. The metal one might take more time, I think we'll need to do more work to find something just right, but I do want it. And I want the leather one.»

«Now that I think we can find here!» Charles smiles. «I like the idea the more I think about it. One to use, one to signify. Maybe we can find something that matches your bracelet.»

Erik's eyes widen; he hadn't even thought of that. «Something from Cartier? Again?» He draws the bracelet tight against his wrist with his ability. «I wasn't expecting anything like that...!»

Charles flashes him one of his biggest smiles, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and leaves his lips looking their reddest. «We could see what sorts of vintage Love collection collars are out there. But you like the idea? You like the idea of matching?»

«Yes!» It surprises Erik just how much he likes the idea, in fact. «There's something about the metal-- I can imagine how attuned to itself it would feel. Harmonic.» Oh, there's no possible way he can describe that; he'll just have to hope Charles understands anyway. «But that really will take a while, so whatever we choose here, it needs to be something comfortable enough to wear until we find the right piece...»

«Yes, I agree.» Charles finishes off his tea. «I want to keep looking. Are you ready to keep looking?»

After settling up the bill, they decide to forego Clifton Hill and make their way to some of the more upscale jewelers in town, one of which was starred by the concierge as his favorite. The moment Charles and Erik set foot in the door, they take in the scent of new leather and metal, and Erik has to reach out for Charles's hand, steadying himself. He'll be wearing that scent soon, _today_.

The domme at the counter smiles at them. "Welcome to Always Ours, gentlemen." A quick look at Erik's throat, the leather thong, and the bruises, and she asks, "Are you two looking for a collar today?"

«You can say it,» Erik sends.

Charles wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes him tightly, then says, "We absolutely are. We'd like to see something in leather."

She lifts an arm to gesture at the case on the left side of the store. "Then let's start over here. My name's Cecily..." She offers her hand to Charles, first, of course, even though Charles has to unwind himself from Erik to take it.

"I'm Charles, and this is my bondmate Erik." They both shake hands with her, and Charles adds, "Erik's actually a jeweler himself, back in Pittsburgh."

"Oh, that's nice! Did you have any particular preferences, then?" she asks Erik.

Points to her for asking about Erik's preferences, but Erik says, "I'd like a strong O-ring or D-ring in front, nothing in a precious metal or unusual alloy. Steel for preference."

"That's easy enough-- most of our collars with practical rings in the front are steel, and those that aren't can be special-ordered in any type of ring you like."

"Actually, if you don't mind him doing the work, he can change out the rings," Charles says proudly. "He's a metallokinetic, he can shape metal."

Erik's gaze sharpens as he watches Cecily's expression-- there was no M on the front door of this place signifying mutant-friendly ownership-- but she doesn't seem to flinch or show any kind of negative reaction, which is better than most humans. She also doesn't pull out the 'my stepfather's cousin's former roommate is a mutant' card, either, which helps.

But she does say, "Let's see what we can find that works for you two. Now, the left half of the case, those are all steel-- it's only these over here that are other metals. Brass, mostly. What would you like to try on first?"

They both look at the range of collars, and Erik puts his arm around Charles's shoulders. «Anything you like? And does she mind waiting on mutants?»

«No, we're hardly the first mutants she's sold collars to,» Charles sends absently, his mind clearly on the selection in front of them. «Do you like any of these?»

Erik's eyes wander from one to the next to the next. «There's this one,» he points out. It's a dark burgundy, well-made, stitches done in black thread and edges finished nicely. The ring in front is a D-ring dropping down from the collar, attached at the bottom edge; it would rest against Erik's skin.

"Let's try the burgundy one, here," Charles says, pointing. Cecily gets the collar out for them, and Charles fits it against Erik's throat, fastening it carefully, petting and stroking the leather once it's where it needs to be, his fingertips trailing over that D-ring. When he looks into Erik's eyes, he smiles.

"You like it?" Erik asks softly.

"I've liked you in every collar you've tried on today," Charles responds, voice just as low. "You're so beautiful."

Erik can't help smiling at him. "I'm glad you think so," he says. "But do you like this particular collar? As a long-term leather collar?"

"I'd like it if it were the one _you_ wanted."

«Charles...»

«All right, all right! I think I'd like something a little more contoured, and in black.»

"I _thought_ so," Erik says. "Go ahead and take it off me, let's try another."

Charles spots the next one-- it has a drop in the front to contour it more to the shape of Erik's throat, and instead of a D-ring, this one has a more traditional O-ring in front, though it is attached in front with a D-ring.

Charles gets it onto him, and Erik tries not to make the face he wants to. Of course, Charles picks up on that anyway.

«What is it?»

«The steel doesn't match, it came off completely different assembly lines! It's not even the same _grade_.»

«Oh.» Charles bites his lower lip. «That would really bother you, wouldn't it?»

«Yes,» Erik is forced to admit. «I like the shape, though. Otherwise it's comfortable. I could always replace the rings.»

«I don't think I'd be quite satisfied with something that made you make that face,» Charles sends. «Let's move on.»

«Altogether, or just from this collar?»

«Altogether,» Charles sends. «Cecily is starving, and it's making my stomach hurt.»

They hand the collar back, and head out of the shop, Charles rubbing his stomach a bit as they go.

"Does that usually happen when someone's hungry?"

"Not always, but it was unusually bad with her. She skipped lunch, her coworker called in sick today. I have half a mind to bring her some pho."

"She'd just have to duck into the back to eat it. I'm sure her shift ends soon."

"Not until nine! Hopefully someone will take pity on her before then."

Erik shakes his head. "It's not as bad as you think. I've had to skip lunch and dinner to single-man the store sometimes."

"Yes, and I hate that, too! If it happens when I'm visiting you in Pittsburgh, I'm bringing you a sandwich. Don't try to stop me."

_When_ , he said, which makes Erik's heart beat a little faster, but-- _visiting_ , too. Erik's always assumed it would be New York in the end, but he wishes visiting weren't the foregone conclusion... _oh, listen to yourself. He isn't insisting you move to New York, he's giving you time, and you're unhappy because he didn't say 'when I'm living with you in Pittsburgh?' What does it take?_

"Erik?" Charles asks suddenly, stopping and turning Erik to face him. "I don't mean it-- of course you can stop me, if you want. I mean-- if you don't want me to interfere with your work days--"

"I want you to," Erik says roughly, pulling Charles into his arms. "I want you interfering. If I had to skip a meal, I'd want you to bring me a sandwich." He wants Charles to know about his favorite deli, about the sandwich he orders there nine times out of ten. He wants Charles to have his own favorites, to be able to walk in and say hello to Pedro and Frank and ask for the usual. He _wants_...

Charles was frowning at first, but now his expression is finally smoothing out. He reaches up and touches Erik's collar, stroking the leather gently. «Whatever you want,» Charles sends, «it's yours.»

«You. I want you.» In Pittsburgh. He does; he's been trying to put that aside for months now, but it's what he _wants_. No uprooting, no moving to Manhattan, no learning the subway system and getting used to the noise. His apartment, where things would undoubtedly be crowded with all of Charles's things, but who cares about that? His jewelry shop, his mutant youth center, his mutant rights organization, his favorite deli, his community college and its fantastic foreign languages department. «I'm selfish as fuck, but I want you.»

«I promise you, Erik, I don't mind that at all,» Charles sends, reaching up to cup Erik's face in a show of reassurance.

It helps, some, and so does the kiss Charles gives him-- but if Charles were reading his thoughts, it might not be so easy for him to say he doesn't mind.

«Are any of the jewelry shops on the list mutant-friendly?» Erik asks. «I think I'd be happier if we found one that was.»

«I'm sure at least one of them is. Let's find out,» Charles sends, and they pull out the list again, looking through the names.

\---

While Erik uses his iPhone to search for mutant-friendly jewelers, Charles takes a more direct approach, his attention broadening and fanning out, weaving over the floating surface thoughts that come to him so naturally, unless he's shielding tightly. It takes a lot more time than it used to, gathering information this way; the Psychitrex is a lot like a shield in and of itself in many ways, so it requires more concentration and focus to get anywhere. In fact, it's slow enough that by the time Charles comes up with a name, Erik's search has gotten him the same information.

"Treasures," Erik says. "Mutant-owned."

"I was about to suggest that one," Charles says. "Shall we get another cab?"

They do, and when they reach Treasures, it has a prominent M-logo on the door, just above the Visa, MasterCard, and American Express logos. "Better?" Charles asks.

"Much," Erik responds, swinging the door open. He tilts his head slightly as he sees the man standing behind the counter, dressed in a dark grey suit. The salesman is giving Erik the same look.

«Have you met?» Charles asks. The salesman is a dom, shorter than Erik, brown hair, blue eyes. He doesn't resemble Charles much, but Charles still remembers Erik's response to _him_ when they first met, and if this is someone Erik once scened with...

"It's... Stuart, isn't it?" Erik asks, walking over and offering his hand. "Stuart Linneman? You worked in a mall shop in--"

"--Pittsburgh!" Stuart fills in, taking Erik's hand. "That's right, you're Erik Shaw, aren't you?"

"Lehnsherr," Erik corrects.

Stuart turns to Charles. "Ah ha-- so you're the lucky Mr. Lehnsherr, then?"

This is getting more tangled by the moment. Charles shakes his head. "I'm Erik's soulmate, Charles Xavier."

Stuart's confused look at Erik gets countered with a shake of the head and, "My stalker ex-husband died, I took my birth name back, Charles found me a few months later."

"And now we're shopping for collars," Charles puts in, since they are, after all, in a jewelry shop, with Erik in a promise collar. No reason not to be forthright about it.

"And Charles is one of us," Erik says proudly, wrapping an arm around Charles's waist and nosing at his temple. "He's a psionic."

"Oh, nice!" Stuart extends a fist toward Erik-- one with the mutant-power sign, the ASL "M", thumb tucked behind the first three fingers-- and Erik meets it with his own, fistbumping him. "How's yours doing these days?"

"I'm making my own jewelry now," Erik says-- proud again, of course. "I'm over at Silver and Steel. How did you get out here?"

"My soulmate's Canadian. She's awesome." Stuart's emotions are so bundled up with love and affection and admiration that Charles's shoulders relax-- this is clearly a man so focused on his own mate that he doesn't have enough energy to spare on anyone else's. Good. "Her name's Lula. She's a mutant, too-- enhanced hearing, enhanced vision."

"And you?" Charles asks.

"Killer math skills," Stuart answers. "It's not exactly the flashiest power on the block, but I'm a lock-in for treasurer whenever I join a new group."

Erik laughs. "I'm just glad you're still in jewelry instead of accounting or something. Because we _are_ looking for a collar, and I remember you had great taste..." He turns to Charles. "Stuart was the buyer at Kay when I was working there."

"Ah ha!" Charles slips an arm around Erik's waist. "Hopefully you'll have what we're looking for, then-- we want something in leather, maybe contoured around the front."

"With a heavy steel O- or D-ring in front, and the metal should actually match."

"Picky, picky," Stuart says, but he's grinning. He leads them over to the collar case and lets them peer at the works on display. "This isn't the full selection-- most of what we have on display, we also have in more classic colors like black and brown. But I like to have colors out, since it gives people ideas they might not have had, otherwise."

"Makes sense," Charles admits. "What about the metal in these, would you be open to letting Erik change it out if need be?"

"Oh, sure. As long as you can handle that?" Stuart asks.

Erik cuts his eyes at Stuart. "I can handle it."

Stuart snorts. "Just asking! You know I have to ask."

There's a flare of annoyance from Erik, but he nods. "Well, you would have had to ask back when you were in Pittsburgh. Not now."

"Yeah? Let's see. You stay right there." Stuart heads for the back, and Erik stands up straight, one eyebrow raised.

«Any idea what...?»

Charles shakes his head. «I'm not reading him that closely.»

The answer comes a few moments later, when Stuart comes back with a collar in hand. It's black with red trim around the edges, and the front has a simple dropped O-ring.

"I got a custom order today. The domme wants the O-ring replaced with one that's heart-shaped. Think you can do that?"

"It won't hang straight if it's heart-shaped. Did she want a divot for the connecting ring?"

"No, she wants it to hang as it hangs. A little bit of asymmetry suits her. But she wants smooth, rounded edges on everything, so no sharp points on the upper point or the lower point."

"Engraving, front or back?"

"I don't think she realized that was an option," Stuart says. He sets the collar down on the display case. "All yours, man."

Erik picks up the collar-- with his ability-- and waves two fingers at it, a simple pass with his hand. The O-ring seems to almost melt at top and bottom, curving and shaping itself-- _being shaped_ , with Erik's ability-- into a perfectly symmetrical heart, all the edges rounded off beautifully. The focus and concentration coming from him is beautiful, his whole self wrapped up in using his ability-- and this isn't even scratching the surface of what he can do, Charles knows, thinking of all those beautiful votive holders at Christmas.

Erik sets the collar down again and crosses his arms over his chest, smug grin on his face. "Find someone with a hammer who can beat _that_ ," he says.

Stuart picks up the collar and admires it, running his thumb over the new heart. "Okay, nice job," he says. "And you saved me not just money but time. If you buy something here, I'll knock off ten percent, but any customization with the metalwork is your responsibility. Fair payment?"

"Absolutely," Erik says, offering his hand for another handshake. Stuart takes it, shakes it firmly, and heads back to the back room with the othe collar.

"Well done, love," Charles says, standing on tiptoe to kiss Erik's cheek. "And very nice work."

«'Think you can do that', hmph,» Erik sends back. «The discount was a good apology, though.»

«It was! Maybe we should stock up here.» Charles squeezes Erik around the waist again. « _Do_ you see anything you like?»

Erik leans in against him. «I like the burgundy one on the left side, here.» It has a D-ring in front, though no O-ring attached... on the other hand, it's not as if Erik couldn't add one. «If we could get matching cuffs for it, I'd like those, too.»

«Then you'll have them,» Charles sends, sliding his hand down Erik's arm and gently wrapping his fingers around Erik's wrist. «What else?»

As Erik looks over the case, his eyes linger on a shiny purple one with a metallic finish, but he doesn't say a word about it. It has a slight wave to the bottom, almost as if it's trying to be a subtle, stylized 'M'-- maybe that's the appeal. Still, Erik looks from collar to collar to collar and finally turns to Charles.

«I'd wear any of these, so long as you put them on me. What do you like?»

Stuart steps back out and comes over to the case. "Anything you'd like a closer look at?"

"Yes, I think so," Charles says. "The burgundy one, there. Does it have cuffs to match?"

"It does, but I might not have Erik's size in stock." Stuart pulls out the burgundy collar and hands it to Charles, who reaches up and fits it around Erik's throat. He really can't resist petting the leather as he finishes fastening it and draws back, looking at Erik, _his_ Erik, all collared for him.

"Do you like it?" Charles asks, a little breathless. "How does it feel?"

"It's very comfortable," Erik says. "It isn't the contoured shape you've been talking about, but I could wear this all day."

"Mmm. I'd like to see that." Charles reaches up again and rubs his thumb over the leather, over a mark on Erik's neck just below where the collar lies. "Let's have this one, and the cuffs, and we'll try on some others, as well."

Erik smiles. "Yes."

"I'll need a wrist measurement to check on the cuffs," Stuart says. "Do you know it?"

"Eight and a quarter," Erik says.

"Oh, I've got that, yeah. With your build, I thought your wrists might be a little smaller."

Charles is just pleased Stuart doesn't have to take any measurements himself. Then again, dominants probably handle the measuring tape more often than not in situations like this, since touching a sub's throat is fairly intimate under the circumstances.

"The others we'd like to try... this blue one, here, with the gentle curve. And the white one, the chevron. And this one, in the mustard color..."

"I don't think mustard is my color," Erik says quickly.

"We've got that one in brown, black, and white," Stuart says. "This one you can try on just for fit. Do you like the burgundy on the other? We've got burgundy and black cuffs, but nothing else in your size."

"I like the burgundy," Erik says. "For the collar and the cuffs."

"Sounds good." Stuart sets out the other three collars. "Give these a shot, and we'll see what you turn out to like. I'll be right back-- just going to grab the cuffs for you so I don't forget them."

He disappears again, and Charles admits, «I'm going to like all of these. Which would you like to try first?»

Erik reaches for the white one-- with his ability, of course, lifting it by the dropped O-ring in the front. Charles fits it on him and instantly narrows his eyes.

«What?»

«Well...» Charles licks the corner of his mouth and then bites his lower lip, there at the edge. «White is a color I normally associate with Emma Frost.»

Erik goes a little red. «You know nothing happened.»

«I actually don't know what _did_ happen, except that I got a burst of anxiety and-- something else,» Charles says, resting a hand on Erik's shoulder. «It felt like you weren't sure what you wanted, at the time.»

«I was sure,» Erik sends firmly. «But she has a very direct approach, and she spoke to me mind-to-mind, which is... affecting.»

Charles slips his hand up to Erik's joining spot-- he'll stop if Stuart comes back in, but this is _his_ Erik, damn it, and he doesn't want Erik affected by any other telepaths! He strokes his thumb over Erik's temple, up and down, caressing that spot. «I've noticed, darling.»

«It felt strange to have someone other than you in my mind,» Erik sends, though his words are beginning to grow a bit fuzzy around the edges with arousal. «And she said she didn't know why I was off my knees, and... so few people have really wanted me on the floor, Charles... the telepathy, the dominance, wanting me to submit...»

«Will you take the floor for me, Erik? Right here, now. I won't tell you to. But I want you to.»

If it's possible, Erik's gaze grows even hotter, and he nods, slipping down to the floor, Charles's hand still at soul's-home.

«I was always trying to take it slowly, Erik. I wanted you to come to this at your pace. But there's nothing I could even _imagine_ wanting as much as I want you and your submission, given to me the way you've given it this trip. If I didn't tell you often enough how badly I wanted it, then I'm at fault, and I'm sorry. But never doubt it. I want you. And I want you this way.»

Erik groans a little and leans forward, pressing his face against Charles's thigh. «I need your collar, Charles,» he sends. «I need you to have that mark on me. Please. Tell me there's something you like here, enough to give me for long-term wear, because I need it.»

«Come up, darling.» Charles slides his fingertips just under Erik's promise collar, and helps Erik climb to his feet. «I know you said it wasn't your color, but in black, I think this is the one.» He picks up the mustard-yellow collar with the contoured front, and wraps the leather gently around Erik's neck. Erik's right that it isn't his best color, but the shape is beautiful, framing Erik's throat perfectly. In black, this is everything Charles could have dreamt of.

He turns Erik to look into the mirror across the room, and they both walk over to it as if drawn there. Erik reaches up and touches the leather, and meets Charles's eyes in the mirror. «I can't quite picture it in black. Can you help me?»

"How do you mean..." Charles rests his hand on Erik's shoulder. "Help you?"

«With your ability,» Erik sends. «Can you show me what it would look like in black?»

Charles floats an image over to Erik-- it's easy enough for Charles to imagine it in black, so he gives Erik that image. Which comes complete with all the adoration and lust and possessiveness he feels, thinking about Erik that way, but that only makes Erik step back against him and reach up to touch Charles's hand, his own emotions flaring into many of the same feelings.

«Yes,» Erik thinks. «This is it. Let's get it in black, and have you put it on me. And then it won't come off unless I can't get to sleep in it.»

Charles comes up on his toes and kisses the back of Erik's neck. «Mine,» he sends. « _Mine_. Erik. Do you know what this means to me?»

«Do you know what it means to me?» Erik turns around and looks into Charles's eyes, and they're still standing there, gazing at each other, when Stuart walks back in.

"Either the mustard went over better than you thought, or you guys just need a color change," Stuart teases.

"This one. In black," Charles says. "And do you have snips for the promise collar?"

"I'll get them. Just a second."

When Stuart comes back out with the black collar, Charles inspects it carefully-- the stitching is perfect, the lines neat, the shape just right. Erik takes it in hand next to look at the metal, his fingers tracing the O-ring, the D-ring connector, the rivets that hold the rings in place, the buckle. He nods, and Charles exhales with relief. «Same grade of steel?»

«Everything's just right. I'm not saying I won't ever replace them if I decide I want a different sort of alloy,» Erik warns Charles, «but we'll be there together if I do, I promise you that.»

«I'd like that,» Charles sends, feeling part giddy, part warmed through, and part grounded, here in this shop, in Niagara Falls, with Erik about to take his collar. This is his life, the life he's wanted-- sharing it with his soulmate, at last, no matter what obstacles they had to face to get here. «Are you ready?»

«Oh, yes.» Erik slips to his knees, and Stuart turns his back to give them a measure of privacy.

Charles slips a gentle fingertip beneath the diamond knot in Erik's promise collar. «I'm so proud of you, Erik. I love you so much.»

«I love you, too, Charles.» Erik's eyes are sparkling. He glances at the snips once Charles picks them up, and Charles feels the tiniest frisson of exertion from Erik-- something about his power, and the snips?

His expression must have gone just curious enough for Erik to catch, because Erik explains, «I sharpened them.»

«Of course you did,» Charles sends, grinning, and he slides the snips around the knot and carefully cuts it, drawing the leather thong away from Erik's neck. The black leather collar comes next, and Charles puts it around Erik's throat, sliding the tongue through the buckle in the back, adjusting it by feel. «Here? Too tight, too loose?»

«One slot looser,» Erik requests, and Charles eases the tongue back and sets the buckle in place. He smooths his hands over the leather, unable to stop staring. _His_ Erik. In _his_ collar. His, always.

«Erik...»

Erik takes Charles's hands in his and turns them palm-up, leaning in to kiss the center of each of Charles's palms, one at a time. Charles shivers all over at the gesture-- it's so submissive, and so perfect, and so romantic, all at once.

«I'm yours,» Erik sends simply, and he climbs to his feet, pulling Charles into his arms.

«You're mine,» Charles sends back, hugging Erik back, holding him hard enough to nearly pull Erik off his feet. «You're really, truly mine.»

After a few moments like that, Erik draws back. «Let's settle up so we can get back to the hotel.»

Charles beams at him. «I like the way you think,» he sends, and digs into his pocket for his credit card.

\---

Back at the hotel, neither one of them bothers to hang up their coats-- they just shed layers of clothing all the way to the bedroom, Charles tackling Erik once they're in range of the bed. Erik brings his knees up, spreads his legs, but-- "Oof."

"Oof?" Charles repeats, leaning up. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Erik insists. "Get back here."

He pulls Charles back down again, and Charles goes for his throat, licking and kissing his neck, his collar-- oh, _his collar_ , he already loves it, loves feeling the O-ring against his collarbones. He reaches between them and wraps a hand around Charles's cock, squeezing--

"Oof!"

"Oof?" Erik asks, immediately letting his grip slacken. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's not-- well." Charles looks down between them, a little rueful. "After this morning in New York, and this morning on the plane, and this afternoon here, I'm-- a bit chafed, actually."

"Oh." Erik winces a little and lets Charles's cock go entirely. "To tell the truth, I'm a little sore..."

"Erik! You just said you were fine!"

"I am fine!" Erik says hotly, feeling himself start to flush. "I like it when it hurts, you know that."

"That's different! Going at it rough is not the same as chafing."

"Oh, and you'd know?"

Charles comes up and straddles Erik, his ass grinding down hard against Erik's cock. Erik's eyes nearly roll back in his head-- that's way too close to some of his most private fantasies.

"As it happens, _yes_ , I'd know," Charles says. "Just because I'm a dominant doesn't mean I don't like being penetrated."

Erik frowns, hard. "You-- with..." He can barely even think about it, and he can't hold back the jealousy he's feeling. He can't hide it from Charles, who can read his emotions in two different ways. "You've had other doms fuck you?"

"Well... not often," Charles admits. "But I've... I mean, with submissives who like to top, sexually speaking."

"You've _ordered_ other subs to fuck you?" Erik asks. He thinks his voice just shot up an octave. His heart is pounding. Charles, ordering submissives to fuck him, to... how does he like it, did he have them pin him, did he...

"Erik... darling." Charles smooths his hands down Erik's chest, his voice taking on a soothing tone. "It was a long time ago. It was a long time before you. I haven't been with anyone else since I started feeling the bond again."

"I know that. You told me that." Erik pushes up a little, and Charles swings a leg over, sitting up at Erik's side. Erik sits and turns to face him. "I just... have a hard time thinking about you with other subs. Like that."

Charles's tongue sweeps into the corner of his mouth, and he nods. "I understand. It isn't easy for me thinking about you with other dominants, either."

"Believe me, you don't have anything to worry about when it comes to that," Erik says. "The only people I would have wanted anything to do with, that way-- neither one of them had any interest at all."

"I can't imagine that," Charles says. "Where's... I'm a bit chilly, the bathrobes... ah!" He manages to find two plush bathrobes in the closet, and hands one over to Erik. Erik shrugs into his gamely, and Charles bundles himself up, tying the belt around his waist. "I suspect there were some missed signals, somewhere along the way. Though I can't exactly regret that."

Erik laughs, reaching out and pulling Charles into his arms, letting both of them fall back against the heap of pillows on the bed. "No. I don't regret you not having any serious subs before me, either." He nuzzles the spot behind Charles's ear and sends, «Mine. Just mine.»

«Just yours,» Charles agrees, snuggling down into Erik's arms. «But... Erik... you've said some things about submission... I need you to know just _how much_ I want you that way. No matter what people did or said before, that's a piece of our bond I'm very grateful to have back.»

«It really wasn't their fault,» Erik sighs, but he's holding Charles all the tighter as he thinks it. «There were only two of them, just-- well. Do you want to hear about this?»

«I want to hear anything you want to tell me,» Charles sends firmly. He turns slightly so he can wrap an arm around Erik's waist. «Please. Go on.»

«All right. Well... the first one was Magda.» Erik can feel Charles nodding against his chest. «Magda isn't oriented. It wasn't even something like a role mismatch, she just-- couldn't. It felt so wrong, asking her to try, and she did want to try, but it wasn't right for us, not for either of us. Not long-term, and I knew that. It's why we ended things. I was-- close to her, fond of her, but to go any further than we had... it would have taken more than just that fondness.»

Charles nods again, and he pushes up in Erik's arms, reaching up to stroke Erik's hair. «I'm still glad you had her. Had anyone who cared for you that much.»

Erik wonders, not for the first time, how much Charles intends to send when he's speaking to Erik mind-to-mind. He's seen just how much Charles's poker face can conceal, and he knows that if their bond were fully healed, he'd be able to feel everything Charles does, that Charles would have to block their bond to hold things back. Sometimes Erik wonders if the bleedthrough he gets from Charles's telepathy is their bond, trying to repair itself. It doesn't feel at all like the bond did, the emotions coming from Charles's _mind_ and not through their link at soul's-home, but he recognizes Charles's emotions when he feels them.

And Charles is telling the truth when he says he's glad that Erik had Magda, even for a while. He means it when he says he's glad that Erik had people who cared for him. He also hurts, hearing it. There's jealousy and regret in Charles's mind, too. There's guilt, chasing right behind the jealousy, so Erik suspects that the guilt is over the jealousy itself, and he can understand that. He doesn't _want_ to begrudge Charles all those fucking subs who have been on their knees for him, but it's hard sometimes not to compare himself to them. And remember how lacking some people-- one person-- found him.

«The other one,» Charles sends, still stroking Erik's hair. «I think I can guess. And... I don't want it to, but this one's likely to bother me somewhat. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, this isn't about anything you've done, it's about me.» Charles sighs, and his touch drifts down, over Erik's collar, his fingers caressing its solid O-ring and tracing the curve of its metal. «I never imagined I'd be the possessive type.»

«I don't mind,» Erik sends, and he covers Charles's hand with his, pressing Charles's fingers to the O-ring. «I feel the same way about you. And I'm really _not_ ready to hear your stories, so please don't feel that we need to do both halves of this conversation today.»

Charles nods. «I understand. If and when you ever want to hear more, I'll tell you.»

«Thank you.» Erik leans forward and steals a kiss, and Charles slips his fingertip through the ring on Erik's collar, keeping him close while he returns it with another kiss, and another, for interest.

When they draw apart again, Charles snuggles in against Erik's chest, and Erik sends, «For me, though... should I go on with the rest of it?»

«Do you want to?»

Half of him does. Half of him doesn't. But maybe it's better if they get it all into the open now. It's not as though there was ever anyone else, and this will be the end of Erik's stories, the end of everyone who could ever have stood between them, even for an instant. «The other one. If you guessed Jason...»

Charles's arms tighten around him. «It _would_ be your handsome movie star lifelong best friend...»

There's much more jealousy leaking through Charles's thoughts than there was with Magda, and the irony hits Erik in almost the right way to find it funny. But not while Charles is clinging to him. Not like this. He pulls Charles fully on top of him, offers up his mouth, his throat, and Charles pins him at the shoulders, kissing Erik's lips, bending down to stroke his tongue over Erik's collar. He even licks the O-ring, tugging it lightly with his teeth, and the sensation runs through Erik's entire body. Even in those awful days when he felt trapped by the metal he was wearing, he never felt owned like this.

Then again, in those days, he hadn't agreed to the ownership. Now he has, and even if it isn't the most submissive response ever, he feels like he owns Charles in return.

He still might not be doing submission right, even after all these years, but it doesn't seem to put Charles off any. In fact, Charles seems to love him for everything he gets wrong as much as he does for everything he gets right.

Erik slips his hands into Charles's hair and draws Charles back a bit, then kisses him-- staking his own claim, holding nothing back. There's never been anyone he wanted as much as he wants Charles, and he wants Charles to read that from his thoughts, feel it in the way he reaches out and touches him every day. Every day... every day that they're together... no, they agreed to it, Monday doesn't exist, there's nothing but here and now.

When Charles finally draws back again, he's smiling, and he's petting Erik's collar. «That helps,» he admits. «And I do want to hear about it. About Jason.»

Erik pulls Charles into another hug. «Well, the good news is... handsome movie star lifelong best friend or no, you _really_ don't have anything to worry about there. He didn't want anything to do with my submission. I think he was actually revolted by the idea.»

Charles's befuddlement comes clearly through his thoughts as he sends, «But he cares so much for you.»

«He does. But there was-- when we were-- we roomed together in Boston that summer, the summer I was dating Magda. He was dating someone else, and they'd scene together off in the bedroom... we'd trade off nights on the couch...» Erik isn't explaining it very well, but Charles just hooks a finger into Erik's collar, and it settles them both. «What I wasn't getting from Magda that summer, Jason's emfriend _was_ getting from him. And sometimes, overhearing it was such a turn-on that I'd...» It's still a little humiliating, remembering this, the tone in Jason's voice, the look in his eyes... «One time I went into the bathroom and I was kneeling, I just, I had to, I didn't have any outlet for it, no one was giving it to me, and I _wanted_ to, but--» This part, it's easier just to share outright. Jason, walking in, illusioning up the bathrobe when he realized Erik was there. That look on his face. Erik backtracking and saying he'd been meditating, God, as if Jason couldn't have seen right through that.

Jason, letting him have that dodge, and days later, _"Yeah, well, I'm sorry if I don't really want to walk into the bathroom after a scene and find you kneeling on the bath mat!"_

«--Oh, darling,» Charles sends, wrapping his arms around Erik and hugging him. «I'm so sorry. What a terrible thing to hear.» He shifts, and just that easily, he's on top of Erik, nuzzling Erik's throat, guiding him to show more of it. Erik gives in with a sigh of relief, showing all the throat he can, letting Charles kiss his collar, his neck, the O-ring again.

«You can imagine... I was never going to ask him for anything after that. And he has Kurt now,» Erik adds-- somehow, though, after talking through all this, he isn't bitter about that-- «and I don't think I have to ask what you'd do if you and I'd been rooming together, and you walked in and found me kneeling on the bath mat.»

«A thousand different things,» Charles sends, reaching up and pinning Erik's wrist. «Pin you to the wall. Lay you out flat on the floor. Drag you to the bed. Bend you over the nearest table, or over my knee...»

«But you'd want me. You'd want me that way.» Erik reaches up and cups Charles's face with his free hand, looks into Charles's eyes. «The only thing holding you back was...?»

«Making sure you were ready. That I wasn't pushing you for anything you might later regret.» Charles turns his head slightly and nips the pad of Erik's thumb. «Believe me, Erik, I couldn't be happier or more proud to have you as my submissive.»

_My submissive._ Erik kisses Charles again, hard, and Charles accepts it easily, returning every bit of that intensity, licking into his mouth, possessive and heady. Charles pins him again, and Erik makes a muffled groan-- his legs are tangled up in their bathrobes, and he can't get them apart, can't get Charles between them. The best he can do is rock up against him, something that quickly has Charles drawing back and looking down at him. Charles's lips are reddened from all the kissing, and he licks over them, grinning.

«It's all right if I call you that, I take it?» Charles asks. He pauses and strokes Erik's hair, gently, from crown to nape. «Early on you were very clear that you weren't a submissive.»

Erik snorts. «Early on I was trying not to get on my knees for you right in that crowd, on that bus.» Charles flinches, and Erik instantly regrets saying anything to remind him of that day in September. They were both so angry then, and it's amazing they've come so far in just... it hasn't even been six months.

But neither one of them ever wanted the separation. And they both had reasons to be angry at first. Now those days are in their past, a _shared_ past.

«I'm... still not a submissive, not exactly,» Erik admits. «I don't... I _can't_ think of myself that way. But you've been my dominant since the day you came back into my life.»

Charles tries to look away, but Erik doesn't let him. He reaches up with both hands and cups Charles's face, looking into Charles's eyes. «You have,» Erik insists. «Because you're the one I wanted. You always were.»

«Erik...»

Mixed emotions color that word. Erik waits, his eyebrows raised slightly, hoping Charles will go on, say what he's thinking.

«Every time you say it-- that I'm your dominant-- it's amazing, I love it. I just hope I deserve it. And I know I didn't, back in September.»

«You don't get to make that call for me,» Erik sends. «I'm the one who decides who my dominant is. Who I'm thinking of when I say _my dominant_. And even back then, it was you. It's never been anyone else, not ever.» There's a rush of jealousy and anger when it comes to the other side of that coin. Who knows how many subs Charles has considered _his_? «You came for me. Even when you thought--» God, Erik can barely stand to think about this, but Charles thought Erik had renounced him, blocked him. «--even when you thought the worst, you still came. You're my dominant. _You._ And you don't have to 'deserve' this, it isn't something you earned by doing everything just right. We wanted it. We worked for it. It's ours.»

Charles leans down, burying his face against Erik's shoulder. «Thank you,» he sends, and for a while it's all he can say. For a while, it's Erik stroking Charles's hair, resting his hand gently over soul's-home.

«Charles?» Erik thinks, finally; he needs to ask, even if he isn't certain he wants to know. «I know you've had other submissives--»

Immediately, Charles comes up, looking into Erik's eyes. «No,» he sends. «Not like that. Not the way you're thinking. I've _scened_ with other submissives. Even had emfriends who _were_ submissives. But until today, I never gave anyone my collar. I've never felt like anyone but you was truly _mine_.»

Just him. It feels like that can't possibly be real. Erik tries a hint of a smile. «I hope you're not disappointed with what you got, then.» The humor doesn't work, he suspects. But Charles waited all this time to collar someone, and here he is, with a man who can't even identify as a real submissive.

«Erik! No,» Charles sends, and aloud, repeats it: "No. No, I'm not disappointed. I never could be, not with you. You're _mine_." He kisses Erik gently, sending his thoughts again. «You're who I want, and what I want. And whether you identify as a submissive, or unoriented, or even a switch, you'll still be who I want.»

Erik nearly melts into the bed at that. «Yes. All right...» He wraps his arms around Charles again and sighs. «I _like_ hearing you call me your submissive. I just don't want other people doing it-- assuming anything-- and I wouldn't want you talking about me as if I weren't there. I'm not _a_ submissive, not-- yet, or-- not these days-- but I'm still _your_ submissive. But just you. Only you.»

Charles gives Erik one of his all-time most wicked grins, his tongue sweeping over his lips, _oh God_ , that's always going to be one of Erik's biggest turn-ons. «Just me. Only me. _Mine_ ,» he sends, and now-- now all those words are bubbling over with happiness and satisfaction, and Charles bends his head down to kiss and lick Erik's neck and collar again.

\---

Welcome back to FetBook, **Erik Lehnsherr**!

_Status updated (Photo):_ [Erik wearing a bathrobe, his new collar around his neck, several bruises showing, grinning ear-to-ear]

_Status updated:_ Gift from Charles. We found it at Treasures, Niagara Falls. Stop in and ask for Stuart, tell him Erik Lehnsherr sent you.  
 _→ Jason Wyngarde:_ NICE! Congrats!  
 _→ Kurt Wagner:_ Yes, very nice! The collar is also. :D~  
 _→ Charles Xavier:_ You look gorgeous. I still think I could have gotten a better picture if I'd tried longer!  
 _→ Erik Lehnsherr:_ You took twelve!  
 _→ Kurt Wagner:_ And only posted one? ~D:  
 _→ Charles Xavier:_ The rest are for my private collection. :)


	30. Working It Out (10/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best trip ever continues, and when Charles springs an important question on Erik, Erik responds with an important question of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more story to come, but we're not quite sure when, as Helens is just about to embark on her own canon kid!fic adventures. :) Thanks for reading along so far, and we promise, we're pausing them on a good, happy note!

Before they go to bed, Erik squirms for a good ten minutes, trying to get comfortable in the collar.

"I think it's just too new. The leather hasn't broken in yet," Erik says. "But would you..."

"Not all collars are meant to be slept in," Charles says. He unbuckles it and kisses the place it lay, then sets the collar over on the nightstand. "Besides, you'd have had to take it off to shower in the morning anyway." It's good that it's so close at hand, though. And the disappointed look on Erik's face as he watches Charles put it down banishes any sting that taking it off might have caused. "This just means that as soon as you're up and showered, I get to put it back on you."

"Then you'd better not tackle me before my shower," Erik says. Strangely enough, he seems to be serious about that. "I want it on every time we make love, now."

"All right." Charles grins. "So if I'm going to tackle you, I'll put it back on. And if you haven't showered yet, then it'll come off to shower, and then I'll put it on again; I don't see myself getting tired of doing that any time soon, or ever."

"No wonder you didn't mind all the collars we bought," Erik teases. "But I'm still looking forward to having one that's metal, and permanent." He holds up his wrist, rotates Charles's bracelet slowly around it. "This doesn't ever come off."

Charles takes Erik's wrist in his hand and leans over to kiss the inside of it, along with the chain of his bracelet. «Good,» he sends. «Mine.»

«Yours,» Erik agrees.

Charles wasn't exactly sure how sleeping together would work, not after the way things went in Mill Point, but in the morning he still has Erik pressed firmly against his side. He hugs Erik with an arm that's only partly asleep, and kisses Erik's forehead, sending love.

It turns out Erik was a bit more awake than Charles realized. He shifts, giving Charles his arm back-- ow, pins and needles-- and kisses Charles's chest. «Happy Valentine's Day,» Erik sends. His thoughts are still muzzy with sleep. It's perfect.

«Happy Valentine's Day to you, too.» Charles smiles. «Any special plans for the day?»

«Only dinner.» Erik nuzzles Charles's chest, leaving several more kisses there. «Seven, at Open Palm.»

That name sounds like it might mean something. Charles blinks, and looks down at Erik-- and then sends out his awareness, broadening it, a telepathic search for more details...

«Erik! The restaurant that specializes in _handfeeding_?» Charles sweeps his hand up and down Erik's side, rolling to face him. «What sort of reservation do we have? Table or floor?» Or mixed, it could be mixed, it could be Charles at a table and Erik on the floor, oh God...

«Table, but one of the tables where there's... extra space,» Erik sends, grinning. «I didn't realize you'd heard of it!»

Ah. Well... «You picked a handfeeding restaurant. For Valentine's Day.» Charles doesn't think his grin could get any wider. «I know we talked about it, and whatever way you want to do it is fine, it doesn't have to be actually with my hand, surely you'd like silverware, metal, that would be fine, I'd love feeding you with metal...»

«That's why I picked table, at least to start with. But I figured we'd see.» Erik runs his fingers through Charles's hair. «And I'm glad the idea still appeals.»

« _You._ You appeal.» Charles lets out a breath and presses his fingertips to Erik's neck, the soft spot where his collar should be. «Should we shower?»

Erik moves his legs a bit, experimentally. «We wouldn't have to, but if we did, then my collar could go back on for the rest of the day. Maybe tonight I could even sleep in it.»

«Some collars shouldn't be slept in,» Charles says again, but he reaches to the nightstand and takes it up in his hand anyway. «Let's head for the shower. I like the idea of having it on you for the rest of the day.»

There's no question that they'll share the shower; it's huge, more than big enough for two. There's some teasing when Charles makes a face at the shampoo brand-- «I brought my own, I ought to have unpacked it and put it in here, but of course I had such a good offer...» he grins at Erik and gets a quick grope in... «I wasn't going to wait...» -- and one grope leads to another, and suddenly Erik's moving to his knees, water cascading over his beautiful shoulders and pecs as Charles stares down at him in awestruck lust.

«Do you have _any_ idea how good you look down there?»

«Your reaction's a good hint. Except I don't think I want you looking.»

«Why not?»

Erik puts his hands on Charles's hips and presses at him slightly. «Turn around.»

«What? Oh!» Charles turns as quickly as he can without risking a slip in the shower, and spreads his legs to let Erik do as he pleases. And Erik doesn't hesitate for an instant; he puts his hands on Charles's glutes and spreads his cheeks, water cascading down past Charles's hole, Erik's mind humming with pleasure and satisfaction as he leans in and licks a hot path all the way up, _demanding_. Charles gasps and braces himself a bit better against the shower wall, as that kind of aggression isn't what he expected out of this at all. Not that he'd object for an instant-- if Erik wants to tongue him open and give him a rimjob that sets him up for their first time with Erik topping, Charles is all for it. «Erik, Erik, _yes!_ Just like that, love, don't stop, so good, keep going... oh, you're so, so good at this...!»

Erik hums, so softly Charles can't hear it over the spray, he can only feel it. The sensation is just another shock going up his spine, and he spreads his legs a little further, wanting Erik _in him_ , wanting more and wanting Erik to keep doing this forever, both at the same time.

«Can I... you won't mind if I share, listen in on what you're doing?» Charles is already getting Erik's emotions, but they're nowhere near as detailed as getting Erik's every thought while they're having sex. And for this-- Charles loves to give this kind of attention every bit as much as he loves to receive it. Getting to read Erik's thoughts for it, read him _deeply_ , would be like having both at once.

«Go on, listen,» Erik sends, his tongue twisting in as deep as he can get it. «Hear for yourself how much I like this...»

Charles opens his mind to Erik's, and he's in two places at once now, braced against the shower wall and feeling his gorgeous, strong submissive licking into his arse, and kneeling on the shower floor-- comfortable, amazingly enough, despite the marble tile-- licking in again and again, wanting so badly to please Charles, but taking his share of pleasure at the same moment. Serving, but pleasing _himself_ as well. It's just what Charles hoped Erik would find in submission-- no sense of loss or struggle or fear, just the man Erik is, taking and taking, giving and giving and _giving_ , oh God, it's nearly too much for Charles to stay in both minds at once. Erik's pleasure is going to send Charles into a bonded feedback loop if he isn't careful, and it's not fair of him, not when Erik can't join him and share the pleasure spiraling up and up and up.

«I love you,» Charles sends. «Erik, if you want, if you _want_ to, you can-- I'd want you to, you could fuck me...»

Erik makes a startled noise, and Charles gets a strong sense of urgency and desire, coupled instantly with nervousness, intimidation, anxiety-- no, that won't do, not at all. He backs away from those feelings before they start a different sort of feedback loop, and sends Erik love and encouragement instead, straight through his gift. «Another time,» Charles sends quickly, «sometime-- right now, today, this, this is wonderful, Erik, don't stop.» He switches the way he's braced so he's got a forearm on the wall, freeing up his other hand so he can start jerking himself off along with Erik's licks and those amazing strokes of his tongue. «Don't stop, keep doing that-- and touch yourself, I want you to bring yourself off along with me, darling. Do it.»

It settles Erik quite a bit to have those orders, and Charles sinks into the pleasure, letting himself have it, all of it, here and now, his and Erik's. They're in sync, completely, Charles can feel his hand moving and Erik's hand moving, and the sensations all blur together. His hand on his own cock. Erik's hand on _his_ cock. His hand on Erik, Erik's hand on him... so much, so good, and then Erik makes another hot, desperate sound, and Charles comes, gasping for breath as he paints the wall with streak after streak of his come.

Erik's following him, moaning against Charles's cleft, Erik's come landing across Charles's calves and ankles, and oh God, Erik leaves one more lick against Charles's hole and then goes all the way down to the shower floor, licking the come off Charles's calf-- Charles cranes his head around to try and see that, because Erik, nearly flat on the floor, _God_.

«Charles,» Erik sends-- and he comes up off the floor, on his own, no encouragement needed, pulling Charles into his arms and kissing the curve of his shoulder. «God, Charles, that was--»

«Yes, it was,» Charles sends back, his head tucked against Erik's chest-- just the right spot for him to leave a warm, firm, claiming bite. Erik hums aloud at that, and Charles can feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

«Can we finish the shower? I need your collar around my neck again.»

Charles beams up at him, and the rest of the shower doesn't take long at all.

\---

Outside the shower, Erik glances down at the bath mat-- soft, thick, fluffy, white-- and goes down to his knees. Charles steps out a moment later, and looks Erik over, not missing the significance. It might make Erik seem needy, or manipulative, or... well, whatever bad things it says about his character that he wants to be kneeling on a bath mat and see Charles's reaction instead of Jason's, it's having all the effect Erik wanted. Even after their shower sex, Charles's eyes are dark with desire, his cock valiantly trying to fill even though he just came a few minutes ago.

Charles finishes drying off with widened eyes and his teeth sunk deeply into his lip, biting down on a smile. He reaches out and cups Erik's cheek in his hand, looking him up and down.

«My God, just look at you. You're the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life, do I tell you that often enough? I can't possibly say it as often as I feel it.»

«As long as I'm handsome enough for you,» Erik sends. «Will you let me wear your collar? Please?»

«'Let you'! Bring it over.»

Erik reaches for it with his ability, of course-- it's right there on the bathroom counter, and the O-ring is more than dense enough, and more than sturdy enough, for Erik to float it over with his power. Charles takes it up and grins, hair all towel-mussed, skin reddened from the hot spray, freckles everywhere. Erik wants to launch himself at Charles's cock, face-first; he wants to lick Charles's inner thighs, go down to the floor and kiss his feet. Charles is his dom, _his_. And he's holding Erik's collar in his hands.

"Here, now," Charles whispers. Erik tilts his chin up to show throat, and Charles settles the collar in place, buckling it gently at Erik's nape. "Good?"

«So good,» Erik thinks.

«Come up.»

Erik does, and Charles tugs him down just a little, just enough to leave a bite above his collar, on the side of his neck. «There,» Charles sends, grinning. «Fresh mark for a new day.»

«Am I going to get one of those every day?» Erik asks. Immediately, he wishes he hadn't-- Monday doesn't exist, it's not really two days away, they can't possibly be going back to different cities after all this-- but Charles just leans in again and kisses him, and Erik sighs, feeling out for the metal of Charles's windcatcher, the weight of the collar around his neck and the solid steel of the O-ring in front, and the gold in his bracelet. Everything else can go hang. Here and now, he's with Charles, and he's going to enjoy every minute of it.

\---

They do manage to get out of the hotel that morning, though once Charles sees what Erik's wearing, it's a near thing. Erik's shirt today is another sub-fitted, skintight shirt, three-quarter length sleeves, this time with a deep V-neck to show off his collar. His jeans are different today, still slim though not as tight as yesterday's, and of course he still has the heavy wallet chain on his right hip.

"You look incredible," Charles says, reaching out and running his hands up Erik's chest. "Won't you be cold, though?" If he is, his nipples are going to show right through that shirt, and everyone's going to look at him... Charles isn't sure how he feels about that.

But Erik shrugs and shakes his head. "I don't think so. I'll have my coat, after all." And then Erik focuses on Charles, and the buttons on Charles's shirt all tug in Erik's direction. "What-- when did you-- did you find a shirt with metal buttons?" He reaches out and draws his fingertip down Charles's shirt, touching the buttons one-by-one.

"I had my buttons replaced," Charles admits. "Do you like it?"

"I'm going to spend all day trying to keep my hands off them! Well, not my hands," Erik laughs. "Do you have other shirts like this? You weren't wearing metal buttons yesterday!"

"Actually... yesterday's shirt is the only one I brought that _doesn't_ have metal buttons. Yet." Charles grins. "What happens if you can't keep your gift off my buttons?"

"You wind up with half your buttons undone while we're out and around."

"Hmm. Just undone, or pulled off completely?"

"Charles!" Erik sounds vaguely scandalized. "I wouldn't rip off your buttons, that's not..."

Charles raises an eyebrow at him. "It's not...?"

"It's just... not," Erik says, rubbing a hand over his face. "Not something I should do. What if I ripped your shirt?"

"I'd buy another?" Charles grins. "Though if you don't know how to sew a button on, that could add up, over time."

"I know how to sew a button on," Erik says immediately, and now he sounds a little huffy. "Helix has a sewing machine, even. I know how to use it. Not that you need a sewing machine for buttons."

"Well, _I_ wouldn't know what to do with a button, or a sewing machine. So it's good that one of us does."

"Hmph." Erik grins. "Just don't expect me to do all your mending."

"There are dry cleaners for that," Charles says, waving a hand. "So... now that we've established that we're each wearing clothes intended to thoroughly distract each other..."

Erik's eyebrows go up. "Yes?"

"...I still think we ought to at least make a token effort to get out and see the Falls, don't you? We can't spend all day in bed, we'll chafe ourselves again." Not a problem he'd anticipated; they had so much sex in Boston without any trouble. But then, those lovemaking sessions had always been fast. Now that they can employ some stamina, they can overdo it rather easily.

For a moment, Erik's lower lip protrudes in what can only be described as a pout. But he nods anyway. "I never did get out to see the mill at Mill Point. I can't miss all the landmarks every time we go somewhere together."

"True! If we end up in Paris someday, I expect you'd be keen to see the Eiffel Tower."

"Absolutely. The Statue of Liberty is another good one."

And it's in New York. The idea of Erik in New York makes Charles's heart beat a bit faster-- and makes him realize that he needs to get his mind off that right away, or he'll be badgering Erik for promises about the future, and that's not how he wants those promises to be made. Not under duress.

He takes a breath. "The Falls it is. Why don't we fortify ourselves with a bit of breakfast first, at least? There's a buffet downstairs."

"We do need to keep our energy up," Erik teases. "Sure, let's go on downstairs."

It's a busy day at the buffet, but there are still plenty of seats available. In fact, since it's Valentine's Day, half the buffet is converted to handfeeding space, and the restaurant is decorated with hearts and flowers everywhere.

Any other year, that sort of decorating scheme would have caused Charles to turn on his heel and walk right back out the door, but with Erik at his side, he can only grin. He _feels_ like this today-- sappy and romantic and like celebrating. After all this time, he found his soulmate, acknowledged him, _collared_ him. What's more, everyone in this room can see Erik's collar and the marks Charles has left on him, and knows that Erik's _his_.

The hostess takes their room number and says, "Please take any seat you'd like. The hot buffet is there, and we've got an omelette station and a crepe station."

"Thank you," Charles says. Erik nods, and Charles looks up at him. "Why don't you choose a table for us?"

"All right..." Erik looks around, and they end up at a secluded table with two chairs, no floor pillows. «I'd really rather save the handfeeding for dinner tonight.»

«Fine by me, love,» Charles says. He hangs his coat over the back of his chair, as does Erik, and glances over toward the buffet. «What do you feel like?»

«Ordinarily I don't do much for breakfast, but I'm famished after yesterday,» Erik says, smirking. «So I'm going to the omelette bar. If you happen to figure out where the coffee is, I'll take a cup, black.»

«Done!» Charles sends. It's remarkable how pleasant it feels to be able to do something for Erik, even something as small as getting him a cup of coffee, and so when Erik heads for the omelettes, Charles goes over to the alcove with the beverages, making up a cappuccino for himself and then getting a coffee for Erik.

As he's sipping his cappuccino, waiting for the dispenser to finish with the coffee, someone walks up behind him. "Hey there."

Charles turns with one eyebrow raised. Vocal tone might be lost on him more often than not, but he can definitely sense the intent behind those words-- and as expected, the man behind him is tall, broad, and wearing a smirk that holds exactly zero appeal for Charles. He's not flagging his orientation with a wallet chain, which might be part of the reason he doesn't notice that Charles _is_. "Hello," Charles says politely.

"All alone this morning? That's too bad."

This man must be the least observant dominant on the planet. Charles is sipping one drink while waiting on another, he's flagging dominant, and the man before him still radiates confidence, as though he can get Charles on his knees right here in the breakfast buffet.

It occurs to Charles that this is the first time anyone's come on to him in... it must be months. It figures that it would be a dominant like this one, although in all honesty, Charles really isn't interested in having submissives approach him, either. He has his dream sub in Erik, no matter how Erik's submission manifests itself; no one else could compare.

"I'm not, as it happens," Charles says. "I'm here with my soulmate."

"Oh." _Now_ the other dom clocks the coffee, as Charles takes the cup from the dispenser. But apparently he's still not looking at the wallet chain-- just the cappuccino in Charles's left hand and the black coffee in his right. "Well, that's fine by me. Does he share?"

" _Really_ ," Charles says. He shakes his head. "It's Valentine's Day; do you think this approach is going to work today of all days?"

"Just another day to me. Though if you've got plans-- I wouldn't mind just watching, either."

Charles has half a mind to let him watch as he and Erik go back to their table, watch him hook a finger into the ring on Erik's collar and pull Erik down into a kiss-- but he's not going to dominate Erik to prove a point to someone else, and he's not going to let rude doms get to him today. "My _soulmate_ and I are going to the Falls, we've never seen them, and then he's made reservations for us at Open Palm, so I do believe our schedule's booked."

"Open Palm, huh? I bet you look amazing on your knees..." He's thinking more than that, but Charles puts up his shields in order not to catch it. He's heard it all before, after all. _I bet you look amazing sucking cock, I bet you lick your lips after every handfed bite... When are people going to learn to look past the height?_ Charles thinks, beginning to get annoyed.

"Excuse me," he says, and he heads back for the table, setting Erik's coffee down in front of his placemat, setting his cappuccino down in front of his.

The omelette station must not be very busy, because Erik arrives at the table before Charles can go off in search of porridge and toast. Charles's eyes light up when he sees Erik, and while it isn't for the rude dom's benefit, he can't resist hooking a finger through Erik's O-ring anyway, tugging Erik close for a kiss.

Erik hums with approval and wraps his arms around Charles's waist, and Charles draws back, smiling.

«What was that for? Anything in particular?»

«I'm just glad you don't have some sort of mental block when it comes to short dominants,» Charles sends.

Erik's expression and mental state move into a frankly adorable sense of confusion, and the image that pops up in his head is a sign from an amusement park, _You must be this tall to ride._ «No?» he sends. «Why would I?»

«You wouldn't. Others do. I found your coffee, I'm going to go on the hunt for toast and porridge. Back in a moment, darling.» He kisses Erik's cheek and heads off, leaving his somewhat befuddled but entirely devoted soulmate to his coffee and his omelette.

The buffet has a toaster, the sort with a conveyor belt to keep people's pastries moving at a steady clip. The toast is all labeled, and Charles counts seven different kinds before giving up and taking two slices of sprouted-grain whole wheat. He slips them into the toaster, takes two of the individually-packaged pats of butter, and looks over at Erik-- who's much more interesting to watch than either the conveyor-belt toaster or the rest of the crowd.

A spike of interest that _isn't_ his catches his attention, though, and he glances around, trying to pinpoint its source. Ah-- there. A dominant who's so muscular he looks as though he's got no neck whatsoever is looking at Erik, and he's leaning back in his chair, his eyes moving slowly over Erik's body.

Does no one in this bloody restaurant notice social cues anymore? Erik's collared and has Charles's bracelet around his wrist! Is there some sort of custom in Canada that dominants can approach anyone on Valentine's Day, collared or not? The no-necked dominant turns, one hand on the back of his chair, as if he's about to stand up and go over to Erik, and Charles's toast can burn for all he cares, he certainly won't put up with that.

But he doesn't have to; at the last moment, the no-necked dominant has a change of heart, and shakes his head, giving Erik a wistful look before turning back to his plate of bacon and eggs. Thank heavens for small favors, because as Charles's toast slides down the toaster's tray, he spots the rude dominant from earlier coming over and sighs. _Again?_

To his surprise, though, the rude dom comes up next to him and says, "Sorry."

Charles glances up at him, but only for a moment; he's busy adding brown sugar to his porridge. "Apology accepted. You're not the first."

"It's just that you weren't collared. And I figured, if you're here and you're not collared, maybe you'd be-- up for something, I don't know."

"And now you know why I'm not collared." Charles sighs. "You know... I've had terrible Valentine's Days of my own, I understand how that feels. But you really oughtn't make assumptions-- unless you're quite prepared to be turned down flat."

"Noted," says the dom, who seems a bit less rude now. "I can see why nobody would turn your head, not when you've got him waiting for you at home."

"No," Charles says softly. _Not even if that home is far away._ "I hope your day improves."

"Me, too."

Charles heads back with breakfast, and Erik nods toward the other dom. "Someone you've met before?"

"Not really. Just a dom having a lonely Valentine's Day."

Erik glares over at the other dom for a moment, but quickly turns back to the remains of his omelette and stabs at an errant mushroom with his fork. "Well, I hope he doesn't expect us to change that for him."

"Don't worry, I made that plain."

"Good." Erik glances over at Charles's porridge, toast, and the blueberry muffin Charles couldn't resist adding to his plate. "The muffin looks good."

"Would you like a bite?"

Erik meets his eyes. "Yes, I would."

Charles stares for a moment, then grins broadly, his tongue swiping over his lips. "Hand? Fork?"

"Fork, let's try that."

Charles gets a bite of the muffin onto his fork and offers it to Erik, who leans across the table, closes his mouth around the tines of Charles's fork, and slowly eases back, chewing the muffin thoughtfully. Charles feels the vibrations all the way up his arm, as if it's him that has the sense for metal instead of Erik.

"Not bad," Erik decides.

«Is that all you have to say about it?»

Erik smirks at him. «I'd prefer a cheese danish over a blueberry muffin, myself.»

«They have them! They have a whole stack of them, I could go and get one!» Charles's thoughts race across to Erik, so fast and flurried that it makes Erik laugh.

«Fork only, until tonight,» Erik sends.

«Agreed,» Charles sends back, hopping up from the table and bending down to kiss Erik's mouth, his hand sweeping down over Erik's hair from crown to nape, cupping him just above soul's-home-- he remembers at the last moment that they're in public. «I'll just get that danish, shall I? I'll be right back! Don't move!»

«You really _don't_ mind seeing me kneeling on the bath mat,» Erik thinks, and Charles reads the pleased note and the amusement he's feeling over Charles's enthusiasm in the words.

«Bath mats are a perfectly wonderful place for kneeling,» Charles thinks, bending his head down and kissing Erik's collar. «Along with everywhere else.»

He comes back with three cheese danishes, which makes Erik laugh. But laughing or not, Erik eats every bite of them, one bite after another taken from Charles's fork, until Charles can tell by the bond that he couldn't possibly have a fourth. And that they might have overdone it; all that sugar's starting to rush to Erik's head. They were small danishes, Charles justifies to himself, mini-viennoiseries at the most. It isn't that Charles was enjoying the handfeeding too much to stop.

"We probably _should_ go see the Falls," Charles says. "You could walk some of that energy off."

"Probably a good idea," Erik agrees. "We'll still have the afternoon to ourselves before dinner."

"Dinner," Charles says, still feeling a bit of the metal's vibration in his fingers. "I can't wait."

\---

The Falls are as beautiful as they've looked in every photograph Charles has ever seen, but somehow he hadn't imagined the sound they make... the endless thundering rush and hiss of all that plummeting water. The wind is at their backs, sending the mist billowing from the Falls the other way, fortunately-- it's quite chilly enough already. Charles hates to be cold, and cold and _clammy_ is even more objectionable. But like this, it's perfect; the air feels washed clean, and he breathes deep, refreshed.

They pass by couple after couple taking pictures at the railing, and one set of parents trying to convince their little girl to get closer to the railing for a family photo. The little girl is having none of it, even though it's clear they've tried to bribe her with a variety of things-- there's a little princess doll sitting on the railing, and her father is talking earnestly to her, settling a pair of panda earmuffs solidly on her ears.

Erik's attention is riveted by the trio, and Charles realizes why almost immediately. It's the same thing that caught his own attention-- the father has a streak of blue hair over one ear, and the daughter has the same streak. Only Erik's just guessing, while Charles can know for certain.

«They are,» Charles says, tucking his hand into Erik's. «Both of them, though not the mother.»

Erik squeezes Charles's hand, hard. «It was like that for my family. My grandfather, my mother, me, all with that affinity for metal. I always wondered if...»

He lets that thought dissipate into nothing, as if he can hardly bear to let himself put it into words, even mind-to-mind. But Charles can guess. «If you had a child, would ey carry on that aspect of your mutation?»

«No,» Erik says, turning to Charles. «If _we_ had a child.» He pauses. «I mean, obviously-- biology--» his thoughts turn to his grandparents, here, the alchemist and the empath, and his grandmother, who 'made wishes'; not such an unusual way to have a family when the bonded pair were the same sex, especially not in those days-- «but-- it'd be _ours_.»

Charles wraps his arms around Erik and holds him, and even through their thick layers of coats and scarves and mittens, he can feel Erik's heart pounding. Or maybe that's the bond, or his ability. Either way, it's easy to send reassurance and love.

«Ours,» Charles agrees. «Someday.»

Erik's eyes light for a moment, but he asks anyway: «Charles-- you're sure-- it would be all right with you, if we found a surrogate or a third parent-- because I want that, I want it so much, to see if they'd-- if I could carry on the family that way, if _we_ could...»

«Of course I'm sure,» Charles sends, each word deliberate and focused. «Erik, I've had thoughts like that ever since you told me about your family's history with metal-related mutations. I want to see that as badly as you do. Maybe even more,» he admits, with a trace of chagrin, «because it's something I've been fascinated by all my life. Mutations and their histories, their futures, what the next generation can bring us, and closely-related mutations are the most fascinating of all. The X-gene seems so random, the gifts and abilities we have can be so varied, but once in a while there's a mutant like you, a family like yours... of _course_ I want to know. But it isn't only that. It's you.» Charles reaches up and cups Erik's face in his hands, his palms warm beneath the half-gloves he's wearing. «I want to know what you'd be like as a father. What we'd be like, together, as parents.»

«I want that, too,» Erik thinks. As he closes his eyes, his mind fills with images from back at Christmas, when the two of them took Ben climbing. Charles hadn't seen it for himself at the time, the way Erik watched him, how full his heart was when he saw Charles interacting with a young mutant-- but in Erik's memories, it's part of what solidified Erik's love for him. And it came with a longing for that-- for a _family_ , with Charles-- that even now takes Charles's breath away.

Charles has been doing his level best to avoid thinking of Monday, but all the things they've shared in a little more than a day, all the things they've said, the way they've talked... Monday _can't_ exist. They can't go from all this back to their separate homes, can they?

He makes himself stop thinking that way. Erik took his collar. Erik wants a _family_ with him. Charles was willing to wait for Erik to be ready for every step of this, and look at the results-- a soulmate who's overjoyed to be with him, who proudly wears his collar, who was delighted at the idea of a fresh mark for a new day, who planned a trip to one of the most romantic places on Earth, just to spend Valentine's Day with him. This holiday could hardly be going better-- better by far than Mill Point, where Charles spent half the time sick and the other half arguing with Erik in ways that couldn't have made him seem easy to live with.

There's a small box in one of the safety deposits at the hotel's front desk, tucked away so Erik's ability won't sense it. It was no small feat to ensure it got there safely; Charles had to make sure the flight attendant got it to the driver and the driver got it to the front desk, all without Erik noticing. Tonight might be the night to retrieve it, ask a question of Erik that makes him a promise, too. _I'll wait as long as it takes, but I want you, only you, for the rest of our lives._

He can almost convince himself not to second-guess that decision. Offering Erik his commitment isn't pressuring him, is it?

As long as Erik knows that he can wait, that he _will_ wait, a proposal simply means that Erik's the love of his life, that Erik's the one he wants to build a life with. Erik knows that already, Charles is sure of it-- but he wants a ring on Erik's finger to remind him. He wants it there even more, knowing they'll have to be apart a little while longer.

«I love you,» Charles sends. «Completely.»

«I love you, too,» Erik sends back. He kisses Charles again, and it's so sweet it makes Charles's heart feel like it's glowing. «Entirely.»

Tonight, at dinner-- or after, after might be better. But tonight.

\---

There probably isn't any subtle way for Erik to ask, _What would you do if you were living in Pittsburgh? Have you thought about the colleges, the universities? Could you help administrate the Xavier Foundation from there? What about mutant youth programs, would you come to Helix with me?_

Not only isn't there a subtle way to ask those things, the thought of Charles at Helix sends Erik's thoughts racing back to the mutant father and daughter they saw at the Falls. And the way Charles was so open to the notion of raising a child together, Erik's biological child. Mutations can be random, of course they can, but Erik's family has three generations proving that some lines leave a legacy. He so badly wants to see a fourth...

"You're thinking awfully hard," Charles teases, back in their room. He has a mug of hot cocoa in his hands, one of the options from the Keurig coffee machine on the wet bar, and he comes over to the couch and sits down beside Erik, snuggling up against him. "I wasn't sure if I could get a thought in edgewise, you might not notice among all the rest. Is there anything in particular...?"

"Brian," Erik blurts out, because it's the first place his mind leapt to-- _Helix, something about Helix that isn't 'will you come and volunteer with me', that isn't 'I met this young man with an interesting mutation', that's-- Brian? Brian!_

"Brian?" Charles repeats, frowning. "Your friend, Brian? The one I met at Mill Point?"

"Ah-- yes," Erik says, and now he's sorry his mind settled on Brian at all. "I know the two of you didn't get along, but since he's one of the directors at Helix, I do see him a good bit..."

"I wouldn't say 'didn't get along'," At Erik's dubious look, Charles amends, "What I mean is, I don't think that would necessarily be a permanent state of affairs. Having a difference of opinion doesn't mean people can't be friends, not in my experience." But now Charles is frowning even more. Brian isn't going to get in the way of Charles even _considering_ Pittsburgh, is he? Oh, fuck...

"You... don't have to see him again... if that's what you--"

"Actually, I wouldn't mind having the chance to have another discussion with him, not at all," Charles says. "But if you'd had the same argument with him..."

"I've had plenty of arguments with him," Erik says. Now it's his turn to frown in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You-- what?" Charles blinks. "But he's your friend."

"In case you've missed it, I argue with most of my friends, sooner or later," Erik says dryly. "That doesn't mean I can't be friends with them-- wasn't that just what you were saying a moment ago?"

"Who else do you argue with?"

_You, for one!_ Erik thinks, and unfortunately, it's so loud that Charles gives him a wry look, and they both laugh. "Well. It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes..." Charles puts a hand on Erik's knee. «But we're much more than friends.»

«Yes, we are.» Erik turns slightly and kisses Charles's hair. "But we don't agree on everything, and I seem to recall some 'discussions' about things, in Mill Point and otherwise."

"That's true," Charles admits. He leans in even closer, somehow, as if he wants to merge directly into Erik's body. «Have you patched things up with Misty?»

«With-- Good God, no, why would I bother to do that?» Erik asks, frowning. Charles looks away, and Erik gets an arm around his shoulders, gently squeezes him. «Charles?»

«When Misty said she'd rather not have me read her emotions, I was entirely fine with that. It's a minor inconvenience, but no more than I have to put up with every day. It's important to me to respect other people's boundaries. But you wanted to leave, rather than let me do that.»

«That wasn't _all_ that happened that night,» Erik says, glowering at the memory of it. «And for that matter, I don't think a total rejection of your ability is a 'minor inconvenience'.»

«It's my ability, and that's how _I_ see it,» Charles sends, exasperation starting to tinge the thoughts. «I offered to selectively block people if they wanted.»

«And I can't imagine why you always start with that. What next, will you ask waiters, salespeople? I've noticed you don't start with the 'can't read body language' speech whenever we go into a new shop.»

«Well-- no,» Charles admits. «But those are momentary encounters, not potential friendships, not to mention that it can be important to sense moods at times such as those-- for sniffing out a dishonest salesperson or noting when a waiter thinks the salmon might have gone off.»

«You do that?» Erik asks, suddenly intrigued. «All the time?»

Charles hesitates, then says aloud, "That isn't the point. The point is that when I'm meeting someone who might very well become a friend, I want to make sure they know I'm willing to respect their boundaries right away."

"I do that, too," Erik fires back, thinking about Piotr, about how quickly Erik warned him what his ability was, what it could do. "But that doesn't mean I offer to cut myself off."

"Yourself...?"

"Do you know how many people have piercings that are hidden under clothes? I do. How many people wear metal chastity gear? I know that, too. I'm not going to avoid sensing metal just so I don't take that in, but I don't go looking for metal that isn't mine to touch."

"Then why is it a problem if I tell people that I can avoid mental boundaries that they feel aren't mine to touch? I never would have walked away from Misty just because she asked me not to read her emotions."

"Neither did I. I walked away from her when she said I had a fetish for psionics."

Charles winces and nods. "All right... yes, that was out of line."

"Not to mention embarrassing, considering the company."

"Well, I know you don't have a problem with my mutation--"

"Not just you." When Charles looks up with a confused expression, Erik explains, "Misty's the one who tried to set me up with Marvin."

That makes Charles frown a little harder. "If we'd only been meeting up with her, I wouldn't have tried to talk you into coming back."

"And then she said my dom should teach me some manners. I think I did the right thing, cutting her off."

"Did she know about us when she tried-- when she--"

"When she tried to set me up with Marvin? I don't know if it would have mattered. She probably always thought I needed someone to take me in hand."

"Erik... I'm not going to try to tell you that you personally need to compromise or be more conciliatory. I don't think you should have to put up with disrespect."

"Good." Erik thinks back to Mill Point-- Misty wasn't the only one who objected to Charles's ability, but the second time around, Erik thought he handled it fine. "And look-- I didn't say anything to Ira."

Charles's nose wrinkles for a moment. "No. He made a mistake, but he apologized. Different situation."

Maybe it wasn't Ira Erik was thinking of at all. "Wait, what? Wasn't it Ira who said he'd pass when you mentioned your ability? He was polite, at least. He even asked if that was okay."

"He did say his name was Ira, yes. I thought you meant his making a pass at you. Which I did not appreciate. But he apologized, so I let it go."

Erik feels as though they've entered a whole different conversation, and it's all he can do to try and keep up. "I don't think he was serious..."

Charles may not pick up others' body language easily, but he has no shortage of nonverbal signals himself, and Erik learns more of them with every visit; this curl of Charles's mouth definitely indicates displeasure. "That was before he asked me to block him. He was serious."

"When I said I didn't say anything to Ira, I meant about your ability. If he was making a pass-- I would have corrected him if you hadn't done it first, believe me."

Charles reaches up and strokes Erik's collar. "I know."

"People do make comments, sometimes, but I really don't think they're serious about it," Erik tries. "And the ones who reduce me to my orientation, those people I shut down hard and fast."

"Good." Charles hooks a finger through Erik's O-ring. "Who makes comments?"

Erik's having trouble thinking, now. "Ah... no one much... not since we got here, for certain..."

"The last time, then?"

"The day before we got here," Erik admits. That doesn't sound good, does it? It makes it sound as if doms are hitting on Erik all the time. Which isn't true-- though, since Sebastian died, there's been a bit more interest than there used to be. Not that it's mattered. He'd rather have Charles than anyone else.

Oh, hell, though, Charles is still looking at him, as though he expects Erik to elaborate on what happened the day before they got to Niagara Falls. "There's a new volunteer at Helix..."

"The pheromone-gifted mutant?" Charles's grip on Erik's O-ring tightens slightly.

"Well-- yes. But he thought I was a dominant, and once I told him I'm not, and that I'm very happily bonded, he backed off."

«Good,» Charles sends, strongly. «I hope I get to meet him, someday.»

«So do I,» Erik thinks. It would mean Charles would be in Pittsburgh...

«But until then...» Charles draws Erik forward and claims his mouth, which Erik is more than happy to oblige him on. There's no need for the claiming-- Charles has _no_ competition, none-- but if it makes him feel better, Erik's all for it.

When Charles draws back, Erik reaches up and settles his hand against the side of Charles's neck, his fingertips gently caressing his nape, his thumb rubbing up and down. "For what it's worth," he says, "I don't have any problem with you arguing with my friends. Or getting along with them. Either one. We don't have to have the same social circle. But I'm always happy to have you included."

"That's good," Charles says slowly. He still has his hand on Erik's collar, which is both settling and distracting. He slips a second finger into the O-ring and tugs lightly-- much more distracting, now. But he isn't simply dragging Erik on top of him, or tackling him into the couch... does he actually want to keep talking? While he does that?

«Something more on your mind?» Erik sends. He's beginning to hope the answer is 'no', so that there can be something on his _body_ , such as Erik.

But Charles nods. «Thinking back to Brian, and what you said about not having a problem with me arguing with your friends. That's good-- your friends are in a different part of the mutant activist sphere than I am. And then there was Brian, in particular.»

Erik licks his lips. «Different spheres... yes... I know, Charles...» Wait, Brian 'in particular'? Erik blinks a few times, trying to focus. "Brian?"

«Back in Mill Point-- I argued with Brian, and then we went home and _we_ argued-- one minute we were arguing, and then we had a scene. An amazing scene, it must be said... but, can you tell me, why right then?»

Between Charles's fingers holding onto Erik's O-ring and the memory of that scene, it's a wonder Erik can do anything other than get hard and start begging. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand over Charles's. "I think if we're going to have a serious conversation," he says, "I need to be up and out of headspace for it."

Charles's eyes widen a little. "Oh-- were you--" He looks down at their hands, at his fingers through Erik's ring, and licks his lips. «Just from that...?»

"Starting to be," Erik says. "I hate to tell you not to, I like when you touch it--"

"But all the same, you're quite right, you should be on firm footing." Charles gently draws his hand back from Erik's collar, but threads his fingers through Erik's and rests their hands on Erik's knee. "Better?"

"Only in the sense that I likely won't start begging you for a scene _now_ ," Erik says, squeezing Charles's hand. "You were asking why-- why that scene, why then."

"Yes. Because we hadn't-- until then, I'd never imagined you might ask me-- ask me for what you asked for then," Charles stumbles.

Even Erik nearly blushes at the memory, but he'd much rather have it out in words than trip over it this way. "Asking you to put me down."

"Yes," Charles says, exhaling. "It's not something I imagined I'd do. Have a scene while arguing, while emotions were running that high."

"It wasn't because we were fighting," Erik says quickly. Although, thinking back... "Maybe part of it was. When I'm frustrated, when it's something like that-- the situation, the anger-- it wouldn't be like that with anyone else," Erik adds. "No one else, Charles, it couldn't be. But I think part of me wanted an outlet for those emotions, and I wanted you to show me that you still wanted me. Even then, even if we were like that."

"I'll always want you," Charles says, squeezing Erik's hand tightly. "Always, Erik-- but I hope you don't need me to prove it that way in the middle of every argument we have."

"Well, no, of course not," Erik says, more than a bit embarrassed now. "And-- maybe you didn't notice, but it didn't start in the cabin."

"No?" Charles raises his eyebrows. "Then when?"

"It started when--" Erik sighs and blows out a breath. This isn't going to make him look good, either. "Okay. It was the way you went toe-to-toe with Brian."

"Because I argued with Brian?" Charles blinks.

"I've never seen someone hold eir own with Brian before. And even if I didn't agree with what you were saying, it was a--" He stops himself from saying _turn-on_ , then reconsiders; even if it makes him look terrible, he has to be honest. "It was hot seeing you like that. Confident and sure of yourself and, at least in your mind, still supporting mutant rights."

"In my mind," Charles repeats.

"Well. You might have had a point about all communities needing mutant leadership," Erik mutters. "And that we shouldn't take everyone out of their homes, not when there are still mutants who need us and who can't make the move to Maine..."

Charles's expression melts into a smile. "I might have, might I?"

There won't be a better time to say this, to try and get his first clue toward how Charles might feel about Pittsburgh as their eventual home. Erik sucks in a breath, gathers up all his courage, and says, "It's why I don't want to leave Pittsburgh. Because I know how badly I'm needed there. And I know how much good we could do there."

"I believe that. That you're needed. That we could do a great deal of good in Pittsburgh." Charles squeezes Erik's hand again, and Erik feels his heart leaping straight into his throat. _We_. 'We could do a great deal of good in Pittsburgh.' He doesn't mean mutants in general, does he? Can he? "I've looked around at mutant resources there-- youth and otherwise. I'm afraid MFMR may be beyond me, but there's a Mutant-Human Alliance of Pennsylvania with a chapter in Pittsburgh, and of course there's a chapter of the Mutant Anti-Defamation League. I'm no lawyer, of course, but I'm more than willing to put in time and volunteer. For that matter, I've looked it up, and did you know that there are mutant-friendly chapters of both the Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts in Pittsburgh?"

"Of the _Boy_ Scouts? Isn't that against their charter?"

"Apparently some chapters have said the hell with the charter."

Erik can't help a chuckle. "Good for them-- but I have trouble seeing you taking trips into the woods with the Boy Scouts. Although... there was a little mutant girl who entered a national girls' STEM competition last year-- in the computer programming division, I think. She lost to another mutant, one from Chicago, but she placed second." Erik rubs his thumb back and forth against Charles's knuckles. "I know your specialty isn't programming, but there are other mutants who competed-- some of them are in biology. And if they could have a mentor like you..."

Charles's eyes are wide and bright, and Erik feels so much longing he can't tell where his ends and Charles's begins. "When is that competition?" Charles asks softly.

"October."

"Count me in."

Could it really be Pittsburgh? Erik takes Charles's other hand and squeezes it, too. "I'll make sure your name's on the volunteer list," Erik promises, and he leans in and kisses Charles deeply.

When they come up for air, Charles reaches up and strokes Erik's hair, from crown to nape, holding firmly for a moment at Erik's joining spot. «I just want you to know,» Charles sends, «any time you want to be put down, hard or soft, fast or slow, I want to give you that. It might be difficult for me if we're in a heated moment--» He bites his lip and looks down. «And I've wondered sometimes if we did the right thing, scening in Mill Point like that. But I have no qualms about putting you on the floor, Erik, none, not if that's what you need from me, or even just what you want.»

Erik almost shivers. «If you keep talking like that, we'll miss our dinner reservation.»

Charles beams at him, squeezing Erik's joining spot again. «It does wonderful things for my ego to hear you say so, in case you wondered.»

Laughing, Erik slides his hand up Charles's forearm. Charles's strength probably surprises a lot of people who don't know what's under those Oxford shirts and sweater vests, but Erik knows very well what sort of muscle Charles has at his disposal. If it came to a wrestling match, Erik wouldn't necessarily win. It'd be a close competition.

«I promise, it won't always be like that. And as frustrated as I was at the time, I was still proud of you, Charles. Even when I disagree with you, I'm proud I'm yours. I wanted you, right then, like that, partly because I wanted an outlet for all the things I was feeling-- and partly because what I felt most was that I wanted _you_. I wanted you to focus all that determination on me, and I wanted you to use it to get me on the floor. On my knees.»

Finally some of the strain comes out of Charles's body, and he nods. «I'm glad it was that.» He bites his lip again as he sends, «It was fantastic. I keep thinking about it. I'll be thinking about it even more, now that you've told me all of this. Believe me, I have enough determination to... more than enough, let's just say that.»

Charles reaches up and hooks his fingers through the ring on Erik's collar, and Erik nearly slides onto the floor at Charles's feet. He moans softly, his eyes closing, and when Charles kisses him, Erik opens his mouth to it, gives himself to Charles as much as he can. He can almost feel Charles's skin heating against his own, in response.

«The way you give yourself to me, Erik... thank God we don't have to wait until we're arguing for you to want to give me that. I don't think I could go very long without it, not anymore.» He tugs at the ring on Erik's collar for emphasis.

«I can't exactly help it,» Erik sends back, mildly amused. All this time he's hoped Charles wanted his submission, and now it seems as if they were each waiting for the other to admit they needed more. Still, that brings one more thing to mind about that night in Mill Point-- specifically, the morning after. He reaches up and strokes Charles's hand, touches the ring where Charles's fingers are still wrapped around it. «Charles-- the morning after that scene.»

«Yes?» Charles is licking his lips again, damnable distracting dom that he is. «What about it?»

«You didn't... do that... wake me up that way... as some sort of... conciliation toward my orientation, did you? It wasn't to put us back on even footing?» Of course, asking Charles now, while he's running his tongue over his lips again and again, makes Erik think the question doesn't make any sense. Still, he needs to know.

«Not at all,» Charles sends. «Surely you've noticed that I love using my mouth on you.»

«Yes,» Erik sends, with great passion and gratitude, and Charles laughs, leaning in and kissing Erik's mouth again.

«Good. And if you think only submissives should wake dominants like that--»

«No! No, no, no, no,» Erik sends quickly, «no, it's absolutely _fine_ if you want to, any morning at all.»

«The same goes for you,» Charles sends, leaning in to kiss Erik's cheek, down to his jawline, back toward his ear. «You remember what I said about that, don't you? That you can start things when I'm asleep?»

Erik does remember, but he's tried not to think about the offer too much. Obviously there's always starting Charles's day with a blowjob, but the other things he's imagined doing, or starting, while Charles is asleep... well, not all of them would fit into a box labeled 'submissive thoughts', that's for sure. «You tend to wear me out,» he sends instead. Which is true. «I haven't really had the opportunity to wake up first and think of inventive ways to wake you up.»

«Just so you know that the offer stands.» Charles grins, his lips moving against Erik's neck now. «It stands until and unless I say otherwise.»

"Charles," Erik groans, reaching forward and getting his arms around his lover-- soulmate-- dom-- everything, it's always a shock how much Charles means to him, but he does. It was so easy to fall for him again... but then again, Erik spent eight years on hold, hoping they could pick up where they left off. Not such a surprise, when he thinks of it that way.

«I've wanted you so much, Erik, it's been hard--» Charles doesn't send the rest of that thought, but from the way he cuts it off, Erik knows there's more to it than that.

«I've felt that, believe me,» Erik teases. «No... Charles, what's been hard?»

Charles draws away for a moment so he can look into Erik's eyes. «Holding back.»

At first, Erik isn't sure what Charles means by that-- and then it hits him, and his eyes widen. «Holding back from dominating me, you mean. From putting me on the floor.»

«Yes.» Charles bites his lip again, and this time Erik reaches up to rub his thumb across Charles's lower lip, particularly the spot Charles is biting. Charles nips the pad of his thumb in response. «I know I've told you that I didn't want to rush you-- that I'm glad to have you like this--» Again, he reaches up and touches Erik's collar. «But I don't know if I've told you how difficult it's been to hold back, not to take more than you were offering. That night in Mill Point, I could have stopped if you'd needed me to. I would have. But I didn't _want_ to. I wanted us to have that scene, that way. I wanted to take you like that.» He looks at Erik again, and although his expression is calm, Erik can feel the tension in Charles, gripped tightly. «I still do. I want to have that with you again. And again.»

«We will.» Erik grins at Charles, not in encouragement this time-- in challenge. His teeth are showing, he knows. «We'll have it over and over again. But if you start now, we _will_ miss dinner. Worth it?»

«I've been looking forward to dinner since you told me about it. Let's save this for after.» Charles grins back-- challenge accepted. «I have a feeling that dinner tonight won't make either of us want this scene any less.»

«I have that same feeling,» Erik sends, and somehow, they manage to keep it to kissing and necking until it's time to go.

\---

Erik looked it up when he made the reservation: the dress code at Open Palm is "anything goes", so he and Charles don't have to change clothes. Part of the reason he chose the slightly more comfortable jeans today was so that he wouldn't be as uncomfortably restricted today as he was yesterday-- as it turns out, jeans that are relatively comfortable when in a dressing room with Kurt are significantly less so when kneeling in front of Charles.

And the rest of the reason was that tonight, he wasn't sure if he'd spend the entire dinner seated across from Charles, or whether he'd shift to the floor at some point. As he looks around the restaurant and sees subs in various positions, he still isn't sure. There are subs wearing everything from three-piece suits to evening gowns to sheer pants and shirts that look like they might as well be pajamas. He's got a feeling the pajama-clad subs are much more comfortable, and he's definitely glad he isn't in a three-piece suit. Though the idea of wearing corset vests for Charles on a regular basis gets more appealing every day.

Across the table from each other, Erik and Charles look over their menus. Erik barely glanced at them online, so now that he's here, the sheer variety of things leaves him a little startled. The place doesn't have a menu as extensive as places like The Cheesecake Factory back in Pittsburgh, but it's split into different categories, each with several courses. Even the appetizers and desserts come with at least three things apiece.

There are vegan course options for everything, vegetarian options, kosher options, halal options. There's a note that says gluten-free items are available on request, and another note mentioning that allergies can be taken into account; talk to your server. And then there are the various sorts of meat options, seafood, game... and a "chef's choice" tasting menu that's 12 courses long, with optional beverage pairings, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic.

«What do you think?» Charles asks. «I know you don't actually keep kosher, but the kitchen's set up for it-- they don't share prep space with the others, so meat and milk are actually separate, that's very well done of them. And I'm hearing that the vegetarian options have the advantage of being the least messy of the lot.»

«I don't care about the mess,» Erik sends, shaking his head. «You read up on this place? When did you have time?»

«Well-- it wasn't reading up online or in a guidebook, exactly,» Charles sends. He looks around for a moment and then leans forward and sketches a hand toward his temple. «Reading. You know.»

Erik's jaw drops for a moment, and then he grins, reaching across the table and slipping his hand into Charles's. «You _do_ make casual use of your power! I always thought you should.»

The reaction seems to startle Charles, whose eyes widen a little. He tightens his hand on Erik's. «Remind me to show you just how much I appreciate you, someday,» Charles sends.

«I'm pretty sure you do that _every_ day,» Erik sends back. «I want to hear more about your 'reading up'. Is it just here, where did you start doing it, how do you get a good 'review' if everyone's tastes are different...»

«You know what happens if you get me started talking about mutations,» Charles teases. «Should we pick out dinner first?»

«Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed by the choices. If it were me, I'd probably go with the red meat selection and be done with it, or the tasting menu.»

Charles's eyes light up. «I'd _love_ to do the tasting menu. I wasn't sure if you would, since it has to be for the whole table. But yes, let's do that!»

Erik hadn't noticed the note; the appeal was mainly that he wouldn't have to think about what was coming. But anything that makes Charles that excited is worth trying at least once. «Fine by me. What about your 'reading up' skills, now?»

«Oh. Well-- I suppose it's a bit like overhearing people talking outside, or even inside. If I had enhanced hearing, you know, it wouldn't really be eavesdropping if I just tuned in to people who were discussing the food here-- and after all, they're all in public anyway.» As usual, Charles has to justify his use of his power; Erik's getting used to that, but it still doesn't seem very relevant to the mutant experience. The only humans who justify things like their baseline senses or ability to walk are generally expressing some form of guilt, or else trying to avoid making accommodations for those who don't have the baseline senses and abilities.

«Right, so it's crowd burbling,» Erik sends, hoping he can get Charles to fast-forward through the excuses and justifications. «And then?»

«Crowd burbling! That's an excellent way of putting it, it's very much like that,» Charles sends happily. «At any rate, it's not too difficult for me to sift through the 'burble' and pick out things that people are saying, not when I'm looking for something specific. The lobster is reportedly excellent, the whole seafood combination is getting rave reviews. Apparently people are marveling about the steak, that one can get blue-rare steak at a place where the pieces are bite-sized. Someone's just sent back a portion of veal, though. And the vegans in the crowd have given it a universal 'you tried' review. Though they're happy to be included, at least.»

«Are you peeking at the tasting menu? Since that one doesn't have a full listing in the menu...»

«I try not to!» Charles grins. «I do try. Sometimes people get very enthusiastic about one course or another. But I like to preserve the surprise if I can.»

« _This_ is a surprise,» Erik says, his thumb rubbing across the back of Charles's hand. «Seeing you this excited about a way to use your ability. I like it. Very much.»

Charles draws Erik's hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. «My ability isn't all down-sides. I truly don't know how I'd function without it. And I'm proud to be a mutant, Erik. We do share that.»

«I know.» Though it's good to 'hear' Charles express that sentiment. «When I'm with you, I feel stronger. Is it the same for you?»

«A little,» Charles sends.

«Do you think your ability's going to come all the way back? Back to where it was before we lost each other? Mine will. I'm sure of it, and every time we're together, I'm more certain. I gain back more every time we see each other. Of course, making 750 votive holders stretched some muscles...»

Charles laughs. «I can't believe you did all that. What _is_ Jason's mother doing with the extras?»

«She offered to put them on some craft-selling website for me so I could sell them. I told her to go ahead, since they aren't the sort of thing the jewelry shop carries. I'm pretty sure she said something about some of them selling, but honestly, I haven't had time to think about it much.» Erik squeezes Charles's hand again. «It's been work, Helix, and you, ever since the wedding.»

«It's been much the same for me,» Charles admits. «I've dialed back on my commitments, both teaching and volunteer work-- well, teaching, I was an adjunct professor anyway, there wasn't a guarantee that I'd have any courses at all during any given semester. So this semester I'm back to research, I've been working on my book again.» Charles sighs. «At least, I've been trying. Somehow that always seems easier in my head than in practice.»

«I'd still be happy to read what you're working on,» Erik offers. «We talked about that a little, back in letters, but I really am interested.»

Charles lights up, his fingers threading through Erik's and squeezing. «I'll show you. Sometime soon. I've been focusing on metal and machinery-based mutations lately, looking to see how often they appear in a family like the way they have for your family, and I think I've got some interesting leads. Actually, we might find some extremely distant cousins of yours if I keep looking in this direction.»

«Interesting,» Erik sends. «You said you dialed back on volunteer work... do you mind telling me why?»

«It isn't from lack of interest,» Charles sends quickly. «I was reluctant to commit to long-term projects when our plans for the future aren't fully set out. So what I've been doing lately is filling in the gaps, working on research for fellowships and scholarships and grants, following up with people who are notoriously difficult to reach, writing a lot of letters. It _is_ important, even if it isn't hands-on with fellow mutants all the time,» Charles sends, his lips pursing slightly. «Without that sort of grunt work, nothing gets done and nothing gets funded. And we can't have larger outreach programs without funding.»

«No, you're right, you're right about that,» Erik sends. «But it can't possibly be your favorite sort of work.»

«I'm not sure I know what my favorite sort of work is,» Charles sends, a hint of wistfulness coming through. «I do like working with mutant youth, although teenagers tend to be a bit tiring for me-- their emotional and mental states run me a bit ragged, they're all very... hm, how do I put this. Exposed? They feel things so strongly, and all the time, and their mood swings are legend.»

«I'm surprised younger kids don't have an even stronger effect,» Erik sends. «A group of six-year-olds can go from tantrum to hyperactive in two seconds flat.»

«Yes, but those are much simpler emotions, all in all,» Charles sends. «Easier to shield, that's for certain. And a kid like Ben, who's comfortable with mutations-- he wasn't suspicious or paranoid that I might be reading his mind at any given moment. That's one of the hardest things to deal with. Which is why I honestly don't mind blocking people who don't want me to read them: usually I'm sparing myself, as much as them.»

"Hmm," Erik says aloud, just as a waiter comes over to ask if they have any questions about the menu, or if they might be ready to order. Since they're trying the tasting menu, there isn't much to go over-- neither of them has allergies or strong food preferences, and while Charles orders the wine pairings, Erik asks for the non-alcoholic pairings.

"Good wine is probably wasted on me," Erik says, as the waiter walks off.

"Oh, we'll fix that," Charles grins.

"Does it need fixing?"

"Wine is a marvelous hobby. There's always something different to try, something unusual. No matter what sort of tastes you have, there's a winemaker out there who's plying his craft exactly to your liking. And a good wine really can enhance a meal, or vice versa."

"I'll have to take your word for it. Just..." Erik flicks his eyes up and down Charles's body, as much as he can with the table in the way. "Do me a favor, and don't overdo it?"

"Oh, I wasn't planning to." Charles leans forward and reaches out, stroking Erik's collar. "Believe me, when I've got you to go home to, I've got every incentive to be at the top of my game."

"I like the sound of that," Erik murmurs. He catches Charles's hand and presses it to the side of his neck, letting Charles's fingers rest against the leather. "And, really, when we're living together, I'm sure we'll have nights when we drink enough we shouldn't do anything dangerous while scening. But I don't think we'd have to avoid sex altogether on those nights, do you?"

"As long as we've talked it through beforehand," Charles says. "I won't forget your limits even when I've had one glass too many, I promise."

Erik might forget his own, but he just nods and grins. "There's always basic."

«We can _try_ for basic,» Charles sends, his tongue trailing over his lips. «Basic with you was better than any sort of sex with anyone else, I can tell you that much, but sticking to basic hasn't exactly been our strongest suit, either.»

«Maybe not. But--»

He's interrupted by the arrival of the waiter, who sets out three forks in front of Charles's plate, to match the three forks on the outermost side of each of their plates. Erik realizes what they're for as Charles thanks the waiter and the waiter walks off-- those are for Charles to feed Erik, if they're starting off with silverware instead of by hand. Special silverware for handfeeding... why didn't Erik think of that himself, he could have _made_ forks for them, brought them along.

«Will these do?» Charles asks, picking up the first fork and rubbing his thumb over the tines. Erik lets himself sense that touch through the metal and shivers a little. «Does the metal need any work, any sort of polishing up?»

«It's in good condition,» Erik sends, as Charles moves to the next fork. «The tines are even, not too sharp, not too blunt.»

«Is there anything you'd like to do with them for decoration? I don't think the restaurant would mind. They might even let us buy them, take them home.» Charles picks up the third fork and runs his hand down its handle.

«If we're going to do a lot of this, I want to make my own,» Erik sends.

Charles puts down the fork and looks at Erik with one of those huge, happy smiles, the kind that makes his eyes squinch up a bit at the corners. «That would be _perfect_.»

As nice as it would have been to have their own silverware for this, it's still fantastic getting to be at this restaurant with Charles and having Charles feed him each course, bite by bite. The courses are, for the most part, only two or three bites each-- so that's how a twelve-course tasting menu works, Erik thinks, and no wonder, otherwise people would explode before course five-- and though Erik always has the option to use his own silverware, he's not taking it. He's enjoying the light in Charles's eyes far too much to want to stop.

He does take command of his own beverages, though, which are a variety of blended juices and spritzers, all going nicely with the tasting menu. There's nothing he'd want to bring home with him, but it's a pleasant enough experience.

By contrast, Charles makes a delighted noise at one of the white wines he tries-- "I'll have to have my wine shop ship me a case of this, it's a fantastic Pinot Gris, do you want to taste it?" -- and although Erik tries a sip, he shakes his head; it doesn't do much for him. "Well, maybe half a case, then," Charles says, grinning. And Erik realizes: Charles said he'd have his wine shop _ship_ him a case... wouldn't he just pick it up himself, if he were expecting to still be in New York?

His heart's beating faster, a little harder in his chest, and when the waiter comes back with their next course, Erik asks, "Could you bring us a few floor pillows, please?"

"Of course, sir."

Charles's expression has gone from utter delight to utter delight mixed with a combination of adoration and lust. «Really?»

«I want to,» Erik confirms. «I booked the table with extra space just in case... and I think this is the time.»

«Forks or fingers, then?»

«It's called Open Palm. Let's try it.»

In moments, the waiter's back with the floor pillows, and Erik carefully goes down to his knees at Charles's side. Charles turns to Erik and catches him by the collar again, drawing him up for a kiss.

«I hope you always know how much I appreciate you. How much I've appreciated all of this. Don't ever let me take any of it for granted.»

Erik slips a hand onto Charles's knee and squeezes. «I don't think either of us are ever going to take one another for granted, but let's agree that we'll work on that, if it turns out to be an issue.»

«Yes! Of course.»

The waiter's coming back with the next offering-- a cheese course with homemade flatbreads and crackers, perfect for a first foray into handfeeding. Not too messy, easy to get in small bites... Erik settles back down on his knees and glances around at the other kneeling subs. Most of them have their hands behind their backs, so he does the same, and then looks up at Charles, trying for the same blissfully submissive expression the rest of them have on their faces.

Charles pauses with a bite of cheese smeared onto an almond-and-cherry cracker, looking down at Erik. «Erik?»

«Hmm?»

«Darling... you don't have to fit any particular mold for me. Be yourself, and if you feel like being on the floor, be there however's comfortable for you.»

The expression did feel a little false. Erik's not sorry to drop it. But he leaves his hands in place, and raises an eyebrow at Charles. «How's this?»

He can almost hear a sound in their telepathic connection-- something between a purr and a growl, all possessive claim, something that makes Erik light up from soul's-home and feel the spark of it running all the way down his spine. «Perfect. Now you look like _you_ \-- just you, on your knees. For me. My God.» Charles holds out the bite of cheese and cracker, and Erik licks his lips before leaning forward-- still carefully and cautiously, these movements aren't second nature to him yet-- and nibbling it off Charles's palm.

Once he's sat back up, he looks at Charles again, and Charles's eyes have darkened to a point where Erik nearly expects to get tackled right here on the floor of the restaurant. He smirks up at Charles and licks his lips again. «Please, sir, may I have another?»

«If this were another sort of restaurant, you'd get every single 'another' you could want, until you couldn't beg for any more,» Charles sends back, and that _is_ a growl in his mind. «I'm beginning to wish we'd picked a shorter menu! We have four more courses to go!»

«Maybe I should have been down here from the start,» Erik sends, grinning even wider.

«Maybe-- if you wanted to have me keel over from lack of blood to the brain!» Charles shifts in his seat, adjusting himself, and Erik has his eyes right there when he licks his lips next. «Dear God. You're going to pay that one off later.»

«I think I will, yes,» Erik sends. He can't stop smiling-- all right, smirking. «Was there Brie up there?»

«I-- yes, and some Camembert. Which would you like first?»

«Whichever,» Erik says. Frankly, he'd eat spray cheese off a Ritz cracker if it would have this kind of effect on Charles. He has a feeling his spray cheese days are over, though. Small price to pay for having Charles in his apartment with him, there to stay.

When they get back to the hotel room, he'll ask. He won't demand it, won't tell Charles it's Pittsburgh or nothing, but now that he knows what he wants... he won't get it if he doesn't ask, and he's not going to risk missing out on it by not asking. They've had so many close calls, so many nearly-missed opportunities. They nearly missed out on each other at Jason's wedding because they were both so uncertain what they could ask for.

Maybe it won't be the right thing for Charles after all, Pittsburgh, but if there's a chance Erik could bring Charles home with him as soon as Monday... Monday could exist after all, if that were the case. Monday might be the best day of Erik's life.

\---

By the time Charles handfeeds Erik the last of the miniature desserts-- this one is a salted caramel macaron the size of Charles's thumbnail-- they're both stuffed to the gills, and it's been a wonderful dinner. Charles might have to think back hard to recall anything that happened before Erik went to the floor, but he's reasonably sure the way Erik bent his head down for bite after bite will be permanently ingrained in his head from now on.

It won't be every night-- it might not even happen every time they take a trip together-- but even to have this once in a blue moon means the world to Charles. Here they are in public, with his collar and his marks on Erik's neck, and Erik's on his knees, looking up at Charles with love and pride. Charles feels both of those things, too, so much so that he's almost blinded by it.

He drank about half of his wine for the meal, which isn't enough to make him feel tipsy at all, not after how long twelve courses took to serve and eat and handfeed. Not long enough, he'd think, except by now Erik's knees have to be getting tired.

That's all right. He can have Erik on all fours, or on his back, or flat on his stomach with his arms and legs tied to the bedposts, so Charles can touch him all over, kiss his shoulders and the birthmark at the center of his back... even his scars, because they're a part of _him_ , a measure of what Erik survived before they could find each other at last. And his arse and his thighs and... Charles has gotten so caught up in what he's thinking about doing to Erik that he misses it when the waiter leaves the check for him. Erik comes back up to his chair, pulls his wallet out, and leaves his copy of Charles's Centurion card in the folio. Barely a moment later, the waiter whisks it off again; Charles didn't even have time to reach for his own wallet.

"I could have done that," Charles says, more apologetic than fussy over it.

"You could have, but why not play around with expectations a bit," Erik says, smirking. It's a persuasive argument, not least because it'll mean they can get back to the hotel that much sooner.

And in just a few more minutes, they're heading off, nestled together in the back of a taxi, Charles's head resting on Erik's shoulder. Erik wraps his arm around Charles and hugs him tightly, and Charles knows there's only one thing that could make this night more perfect. Not sex-- although he won't turn that down, of course-- but that box he has tucked away at the front desk. It really ought to be tonight. It feels right.

Erik's mentioned Pittsburgh more than once this trip. It's possible he thinks he's being subtle, and it's true that if Charles weren't as attuned to him as he is, he might have just thought they were making conversation, but he's been reading hope from Erik whenever Pittsburgh comes up. A little guilt, too. He's not sure what the guilt means, but maybe proposing to him will make it clear to Erik that there's nothing he needs to feel guilty for, not when it comes to wanting to build their lives together in the city where Erik already lives, where he feels so connected to the community.

Charles has friends in New York, lots of them, and even a few close friends-- Alex and Armando, Angel and Janos, Moira and Sean, and of course Raven is there. But his relationships with the mutant organizations he volunteers with aren't as deeply-rooted as Erik's. There are no one-on-one relationships he's developed with younger mutants, no one's counting on him to be there every Wednesday for a tutoring session. He isn't tenured at Elion. Even his townhouse isn't solely his; Raven and Irene will be moving in once they're back from their honeymoon, and they may end up wanting something more accessible for Irene, anyway. It might end up on the market either way. And as newlyfounds, they'll surely want to set up house on their own together, without Raven's spare brother rattling around at loose ends in their space.

Mentally, Charles has been prepared to pick up and leave the moment Erik says he's ready. Now it feels like they're only waiting to set a date, and somehow that makes it all easier. Erik mentioned October-- Charles doesn't want to spend nine more months like this, but if it takes nine months for Erik to be ready, to be sure of them, then Charles can accept that. If there's a date to count down to, Charles can watch the days and hours and minutes tick by, knowing that his soulmate is waiting on the other end of them.

So when they get back to the hotel, Charles squeezes Erik's hand and says, "I need to take care of something at the front desk-- will you go on upstairs? I'll only be a moment."

Erik looks surprised, which quickly gives way to a certain sort of eagerness and curiosity. "Absolutely," he agrees, leaning down to give Charles a brief kiss before heading for the elevators.

It takes only a few minutes to get the package out of the hotel security boxes, and to sign for it, and Charles follows Erik up in the next elevator. He has to share it with two other people, but even so he can't resist opening up the box again, looking at the ring. It's gorgeous, but Erik will feel the unusual metal as soon as Charles walks in with it, and of course he knows what the hinged shape of a ring box feels like-- even an octagonal box from Cartier. He has another one, after all, from the bracelet he wears.

Looking at the ring again, Charles wonders again if the 'X' is too much. He hopes not. It was a risk, but what hasn't been? And even when the risks led them to painful places, like their terrible first meeting, it's all worked out in the end. Maybe this will, too. It's up to Erik, Charles reminds himself. Erik can choose whether to keep the X or not.

«I have something for you! No peeking,» Charles sends, as soon as the elevator lands on their floor.

«You should have told me sooner! I was feeling for you in the elevator. But there were other people with you, I couldn't pin down what you'd gotten. Did you go shopping at the hotel store?» The hotel gift shop does have a number of interesting bondage items, some very expensive things; Charles wishes he'd thought of that, bought something else to throw Erik off the scent.

«You'll see soon enough! Ready?»

«Come and see for yourself.» He can feel Erik smirking with that, and as Charles reaches the door, it swings open for him.

He walks through the suite, past the living area, into the bedroom, where Erik's wearing nothing but whisper-thin pajama pants, and he's kneeling in the center of the bed. Charles knows full well that Erik doesn't wear anything to sleep, so these-- these are just for him. And they look like Charles could rip them off with his teeth, if he wanted.

He's tempted. But then he couldn't do what he's planning... or at the very least, it would mean a delay, and he doesn't want that, either.

«Come over here to the side of the bed,» Charles sends. He tosses his overcoat onto the chair in the corner and walks over to the bed himself, box still in his hand. Erik notices it, and looks up at Charles, excitement written all over his face. «You're not peeking, are you?»

«No-- what is it?» Erik swings out of his kneel, his legs coming down so his feet rest at the side of the bed. «More Cartier?»

Charles takes a deep breath and goes down on one knee, in front of Erik. Erik sucks in a huge breath, his eyes wide, and he puts both hands down on the edge of the mattress, his fingers curling in, the bedsprings squeaking a little. «Charles...?»

«Go on,» Charles sends. «Open it.»

He keeps a grip on the lower part of the box, but lets Erik use his ability to open the latch and swing the box open. Erik's jaw drops-- that's definitely flattering, it makes Charles's heart flutter for a moment in his chest-- and he looks from the ring to Charles and back again.

«Is that-- do you mean that for--»

«It's for you, of course,» Charles sends, teasing, but he quickly grows serious as he meets Erik's eyes and rests a hand on his knee. «Whatever happens, wherever we are, I want you to know that I'm always committed to you.»

Erik's eyes are shining, and he swallows, nodding. «I know, Charles.» He puts his hand over Charles's and squeezes it gently. «It's the same for me.»

«I feel that.» He does, right now, all through him, Erik's sense of love and commitment warm and glowing through their bond, through Erik's mind. «And I need to ask you something.»

«Yes?»

"Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, will you marry me?"

Erik sits bolt upright, startled into a laugh. "Charles, _God_ , yes!" He laughs again, and his lashes are wet now. "I said yes already-- I said yes in Mill Point, of _course_ I'll marry you!"

"Can you blame me if I want to hear it again?" Charles asks, and his own lashes feel wet with tears, too. «Erik, I love you. I want to commit the rest of my life to you.» He sets the ring box down at Erik's side and comes up on his feet, wrapping his arms around Erik, holding him tightly. At this angle, with Erik reaching up to hug him and Charles having to-- for once-- reach down, Charles can kiss the top of Erik's head and share his emotions mind-to-mind. How thrilled and joyful he feels, how good it felt to get Erik's enthusiastic yes, and how much he's longing to be connected to Erik that way, _married_ to him, recognized with him, every form of commitment they can make to one another.

They stay that way a while, but eventually Charles can feel Erik's curiosity about the ring winning out. He takes a seat next to Erik and lets Erik draw the ring up out of the box, watching Erik's expression as he looks at the ring from every angle, feels it out with his ability. «Charles, it's magnificent. What sort of metal is it, I've never felt that before...»

«It's iridium,» Charles sends. And if the way Erik feels when he touches the metal is any indication, it was worth all the trouble it took to find it. «I'm so happy you like it.»

Erik's still turning the ring around and around in the air. «I recognize the band from the LOVE collection, of course it is, of course you'd have wanted it to match-- but the stone, a tension setting-- that isn't an option, not even back when the line was first introduced. You had this custom-made.» It isn't a question. Erik meets Charles's eyes, and Charles smiles again, so pleased and proud-- he got it right, he got this right, Erik loves the ring, Charles can tell.

«I wanted it to be unique for you. And if there's anything about it you want to change... it's yours to do with.» Charles tries not to let any of his nervousness show-- it's now or never, that X marking the ring, marking _Erik_ when he wears it. If Erik doesn't want that...

And of course he's noticed it. He smirks a little at Charles as he sends, «The top of it... it's faux-faceted. There's an X...»

The smirk gives Charles a hint of reassurance. It doesn't seem as if Erik's offended or displeased. «I couldn't resist. But like I said: you can change it any way you like, I won't mind.»

Erik looks at the ring again and nods slowly. «I want it on, first.»

He holds out his hand to Charles, and Charles beams his brightest, even wider as Erik's emotions swell in response to the look on Charles's face. Charles plucks the ring out of midair and slides it onto Erik's finger, and then, still holding Erik's hand, kisses him soundly.

Erik kisses him back, and Charles gets a sensation of Erik's touch on that metal. He slips quickly into Erik's mind to ride along as Erik molds the ring, adjusting the fit slightly, rounding off the inner edge just a bit for a more comfortable fit. Those are adjustments Charles is all in favor of him making, loves the idea of him making-- ensuring his engagement ring is comfortable enough to feel like a part of him? Of course he'd want that.

But Erik backs him off just slightly so they can both look down at the ring again. «It needs just one thing,» he sends. And with that, he deepens the faux-faceting that created the X shape, drawing the X shape down so it's perfectly obvious to anyone who sees it. It's not just a subtle detail anymore, it's a centerpiece, and Charles almost tackles him to the bed, barely restraining himself to a huge hug. He can't resist sliding one hand up to Erik's joining spot, caressing soul's-home and touching his forehead against Erik's.

«How am I lucky enough to have you?»

Erik tips his head forward and kisses Charles again. «We're both lucky.» And Erik lets out another burst of delighted laughter, looking at the ring on his finger. «This ring, Charles! Is it vintage? It feels vintage!»

«It's from the same year as the bracelet. I hope that means the metals match for you!»

«I love it, Charles. Every bit of it. Especially now.»

Charles can feel Erik's power caressing the iridium chip, lingering over the shape of the X. He rests his head on Erik's shoulder for a moment, just breathing in the intensity of all this, full to overflowing with all his feelings and all of Erik's.

«I couldn't be happier.» He squeezes Erik's hands, and Erik squeezes back-- and now Charles can feel what it's like to have a ring around Erik's finger when they're holding hands. It's beyond thrilling. «I'm going to marry you.»

«Of course you are!» Erik sounds, and feels, every bit as happy as Charles does. He pulls Charles into another hug. «Of course we are. Charles, of course I want to marry you.»

Charles sneaks a hand between them and tugs the ring of Erik's collar, which gets another burst of pleasure out of Erik. «I was only concerned a bit that this might be a bit much all at once.»

But Erik shakes his head. «No. I've thought of us as engaged since Mill Point, I said I'd marry you then-- I just thought we were waiting until we were in the same city to make it 'official'...» And at that, he bites his lower lip and looks at Charles, his eyebrows drawing up into a look that his emotions clearly define as 'worried'. He wraps his arms around Charles's waist, and takes a deep breath. «I've been thinking about that,» he sends. «And-- I don't know if you'll be willing. I'm not saying it's the only place we can settle down. But for now, I want it to be Pittsburgh.»

«You don't have to worry about whether I'm willing,» Charles sends, reaching up and touching Erik's collar all over again. «I may not always pick up on hints, but even I've been noticing how often Pittsburgh's been coming up in conversation this weekend. When you said you'd put me on the volunteer list for October... believe me, Erik, I can be ready to move by then.»

«October?» Suddenly Erik's crestfallen, reaching out and touching Charles's chest, where the windcatcher lies under his shirt. «That long?»

Charles's eyes widen, and he grins, ear-to-ear. «Do you want it to be sooner?»

«I _want_ \--» Erik traces the rings of Charles's windcatcher with his ability; Charles can feel the motion of Erik's gift caressing the metal in circles, over and over. "I _want_ it to be now. This weekend. Monday. But that's so--"

"Yes!" Charles launches himself at Erik, wrapping his arms around Erik's shoulders, tackling him to the bed. "Erik, if you're ready, _yes_ , I'll go home with you, _yes_!"

Erik laughs as he catches Charles, tugging Charles backwards with him, getting them both firmly planted in the center of the bed-- and then spreading his legs so he can get Charles wedged between his thighs. With Erik wearing so little, Charles can feel practically every inch of Erik's body, and certain very specific inches that are getting more and more excited by the moment. "Are you sure? You didn't even think about it!"

«I've been thinking about it since the day I realized that you were _in_ Pittsburgh!» Charles sends, and then quickly regrets it-- maybe that's too much. On top of the collar and the ring and the engagement and agreeing to move...

But Erik reaches up to cup Charles's face, and he's smiling. It doesn't feel like too much, not when Erik looks at him that way. «So you've thought about what you'd be giving up. Everyone who lives in New York always says there's no going back, once you've been there.» And there's the hint of guilt Charles has been feeling from Erik, when Pittsburgh has been in the forefront of his thoughts. All this time, it's been because he was worried about what Charles might be leaving behind.

Which is sweet, but unnecessary. «What? Bollocks. That might've been true twenty years ago, but not any longer.» More seriously, Charles adds, «Even if it were, I want to be where you are. Where you're happy.»

«You'll need a car. Public transport isn't anything like in Manhattan. You'll need to look around at the colleges and universities, but there are so many-- at least we've got that, and there are so many places that could use your help for volunteer work. Helix is just one of them.»

«I can get a car,» Charles sends. «I've already been in touch with people at Carnegie-Mellon and Allegheny. I really might take time first to work on my book, though. I know people in the MAD-L of Pittsburgh, I know people who work for the Mutant-Human Alliance-- it won't be MFMR, but I think you knew that already.»

«I did. Though I can always hope you'll change your mind on that,» Erik sends, flashing Charles a grin. «You really _have_ thought about it. It isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. You've thought about being there with me.»

«Every day,» Charles sends, heartfelt. «At least, every day since Jason and Kurt's wedding. Every day since I thought I could even hope for that.»

«You can do more than hope,» Erik sends, leaning up and kissing Charles. It's slow and sweet, and Erik's hand moves around to cup Charles's joining spot, more in welcome than in an effort to get something started. «You can come home with me.»

No words could possibly tell Erik how much that means. Charles just rests his brow against Erik's, letting his feelings speak for themselves. «Yes,» he sends at last. «Yes, of course. There's nothing I want more.»

It must be the same for Erik, because after another kiss, it's Erik's turn to try transmitting feelings instead of words. It isn't as easy for Erik, not second-nature the way it is for Charles, but it's clear to Charles all the same, and it means so much that Erik would try to give him that-- not just allow Charles to read his feelings, but purposely send them, offering them up.

He sends thoughts, as well: «I'm so ready. I want to take you home. I've been thinking all weekend about how to fold you up and put you in my suitcase.»

«If that were the only way to get there, I'd let you!» Charles can only laugh and kiss Erik yet again. «--But fortunately the plane does seat two, so please don't.»

«No, I won't.» Erik smirks. «But if you want to bend me into any special positions, let me know.»

Charles is smiling so hard it feels as if he's getting cheek cramps. He'll take them. «There are so _many_ special positions-- we're just going to have to live together to even begin going through them all.»

Erik's grin looks just as wide. «When we get home, we can christen the bed, and the couch, and maybe even the bar stools in the kitchen, though we'll have to be careful!»

Charles laughs. «We can be careful.» He pulls Erik into another hug, too exuberant not to. «When we get _home_ \--» Charles raises himself up slightly so he can look at Erik again, grinning down at him. Erik's eyes widen a little, and he lets his hands fall down against the bed, up to either side of his head, where Charles can take hold of them and pin him.

But that isn't all Charles wants to do. He leans forward and kisses Erik's collar, then follows that kiss with a slow, stroking touch. «This is everything I could've wanted, all at once, Erik. Thank you.» He reaches over and trails his fingertips over Erik's bracelet, then curls his fingers around Erik's wrist, holding the chain of the bracelet. With his other hand, he threads his fingers through Erik's, thumb reaching between their hands so he can brush the pad of it against Erik's engagement ring. And he bends down again to trace the tip of his tongue against Erik's O-ring, making Erik shiver and moan underneath him. Charles grins as he makes another slow circle around Erik's O-ring with his tongue. «I have you all decked out.»

It takes Erik a few breaths to steady himself, but once he's managed it, he gives Charles's windcatcher a gentle tug. «I had you first.»

Charles laughs softly. «So you did.»

\---

Everything seemed so urgent when Erik got his collar; it was as if they couldn't get close enough fast enough. But after the ring and after Charles agreeing to come home with Erik, things slowed down. Time seemed to slow down, for a while; there was kissing and touching, lingering caresses against the collar and the ring and the bracelet, against the windcatcher, their memories weaving together with little bursts of emotion. Erik, sharing the day he made the windcatcher for Charles, and how proud he was of it. Charles, sharing the bittersweet feel of receiving his father's bracelet from Sharon, and how grateful he was to have something to give to Erik.

Erik does sleep in the collar, at first, but he wakes up coughing. Charles quickly wakes up and helps him take it off. «Everything all right?»

«Yes-- I could use a glass of water...»

«I'll get it,» Charles sends. He kisses Erik's throat. «Stay here. I won't be long.»

He isn't; he's back in bed and back under the covers in no time. Erik takes the water gratefully, his throat feeling less constricted by the moment.

«When I have my commitment collar, I want one that I can sleep in,» Erik sends, settling down at Charles's side.

Charles hugs him tightly. «I want that for you, too,» he sends, one of his hands drifting up to his chest, settling over his windcatcher. «It's a wonderful feeling.»

«Share...?» Erik reaches up to Charles's temple, leaving a sleepy caress there. Charles opens up to him and gives him that sensation, the metal light against his chest but always there, a reminder of Erik every moment, every day.

It's soothing enough that Erik falls back to sleep almost immediately, his thoughts twined around Charles's the way his body is, the sensation of metal surrounding him. Charles is coming home with him. He'll have this every night. He falls asleep smiling.

In the morning, he wakes up before Charles does, and he strokes Charles's hair for a while, just looking at him. _I'm taking you home with me. No more separation. We'll be together, where we always belonged._

He's sure Charles is still asleep, but even so, some thoughts come through to him. _Home? Now?_ Charles makes a soft noise and rolls over to face Erik, turning his face against Erik's shoulder, tucking in. _Home?_

It's amazing how much emotion Erik's heart can contain. He doesn't remember feeling this strongly about anyone or anything, not since-- maybe not since his mother was still alive, the first Rosh Hashanah he remembers, the look on her face and the love that surrounded him when she set out the apples and the honey... all the sweetness that seemed to burst on his tongue. He felt safe then, but he also wanted to wrap her up in his arms and make sure nothing ever happened to her, ever.

It must have been near the time they lost his father... no wonder he'd felt so protective. They were alone, that year, he remembers that much. The next year they were with his grandparents for Rosh Hashanah, and it was different-- not as intimate, but still special.

The protectiveness he felt with his mother... it's the same, now, with Charles. He wraps his arms around Charles, trying not to wake him. «Home,» he sends. «Home, now, if you want.»

Charles's arms tighten around Erik, too, and he yawns, nuzzling Erik's shoulder as he comes awake. «Good morning,» he sends. He runs a hand down Erik's arm, ending at his hand... and feels the ring there, a smile coming over his face. Erik can feel it against his shoulder. «I dreamed of you. But waking up is nice, too.»

«Yes, it is,» Erik sends, nosing at Charles's hair. «Did I wake you by sending thoughts?»

«No, I was nearly awake as it was.» Charles draws back, still having to blink slowly to keep his eyes open. «You said something about home... now...?»

«We could cut our vacation a little short. Head home early, and start getting you set up there.»

Erik's seen almost every variation on Charles's smiles that there is, but this one may well be the brightest yet. «Race you to the shower.»

\---

"Will you need anything from New York? We could stop there first, if you do," Erik says, as they're drying off.

"No, I have everything I need for-- oh, probably two weeks," Charles says. "Anything else, I can have sent. Plus there are stores in Pittsburgh, of course."

"You packed for two weeks?" Erik asks. Then again, he's seen how much luggage Charles tends to bring with him. "Never mind-- the better to get you home with, my dear."

Charles laughs. "Are you the big bad wolf? I'm afraid I don't have any red hoods to speak of. Do you?"

"Hmm, no, although I think about red capes sometimes in the winter. They never seem to go with my jeans, though."

Charles bumps Erik with his shoulder, laughing more. "Capes. I'm sure you'd look quite dashing in a cape, but really, red? A bit outré, wouldn't you say?"

"I like red," Erik says. "You didn't mind that red patent leather collar..."

Charles half-purrs, half-growls, and wraps his arms around Erik from behind, looking over Erik's shoulder into the bathroom mirror. "You do have that, still, don't you? We're taking it with us?"

"Yes, don't worry," Erik says, turning in Charles's arms and wrapping his arms around him. Taking it with _us_. This is really happening. It's really happening _today_. «I love you.»

«I love you, too!» Charles comes up on his toes and rubs his nose against Erik's, then kisses him. «What's the first thing we'll do in Pittsburgh?»

«Pick up my car and drive home, and rearrange furniture, maybe... I assume you'll want a desk, so we'll have to go and get one. It's Sunday, so we can't get you an updated driver's license yet-- then again, we won't have any mail with your name on it, proof of residence. Maybe we can arrange some of that.» He pauses for a moment after sending all that. "None of that was romantic at all. We could-- I could carry you over the threshold...?"

But Charles just laughs. "No, no, Erik, that's fine, that's wonderful. We absolutely do have to take care of the practicalities, and I love that you've been thinking about it. That you've been thinking about me-- there-- _home_ ," he says, his eyes so bright, "with you. Though I admit, there's a substantial chance we won't make it out of bed for a day or two once we get back to your place."

"We'll have to go out for food sometime," Erik teases, hugging Charles again. "And we might chafe some more."

"I don't care if I'm chafed! I'm going to get to have you in _our_ bed in _our_ bedroom!" Charles comes up on his toes and kisses Erik again and again, and Erik's heart feels so full-- Charles is really coming home with him. He's right: now it's their bed, their bedroom, their apartment. All they need is a hint of paperwork, and it'll be official.

«Will you call the airline? I can start getting us packed up while you do,» Erik offers.

«Absolutely.» Charles leaves one more fast kiss on Erik's mouth and finally lets go of him. «Let me pull some clothes on and I'll get started on that.»

\---

Charles is nearly bouncing off the walls by the time the town car gets them to the airport's private terminal. He keeps coming up with things he needs to do once they're in Pittsburgh, arrangements he needs to make, and trying to add them to a mental list... but he isn't going to run out of time to think of things, he isn't going to have to get things done within a certain window. He'll have all the time in the world to get a new driver's license, get his name on Erik's lease, arrange to share utilities with Erik, find the nearest local library and get a local library card...

He's moved house only three or four times in his life, and the one he was most excited about, before, was getting out of the Westchester house and going away to school. He was happy about going to Boston, but more relieved about getting out of the house with Kurt and Cain than anything. Now, though-- he's moving in with Erik, he's going to start a new life with his soulmate, and everything he does to settle in will be things that are folding himself into a new community, one he'll share with the man he loves.

All right, so he won't be joining MFMR, but Erik didn't bat an eyelash at Charles mentioning the MHA, and he's thrilled about getting to meet the kids at Helix. That's one thing they can definitely do together-- whatever volunteer work Erik does at Helix, Charles will find a way to join him, and he'll find his own niche as well, his own space where he can help younger mutants with their confidence in their abilities.

«Can I get you something? There's coffee, tea, pastries.» The private departures room has a small selection of things, but Charles doesn't want to go much further than that-- the plane could arrive at any moment. «Of course, the plane has a full galley, so we can wait to eat until we're on the plane, too.»

«I'm starting to think we should have had sex before we left the room, after all!» Erik sends, smirking over at Charles. «You look like you're going to explode. That's not one of your secondary mutations, is it?»

«It just might be! I certainly feel like it right now.» Charles reaches out and takes Erik's hand and squeezes it hard, and then kisses the backs of Erik's knuckles. It's all he can trust himself to do; if he goes much further, he'll be all over Erik within seconds.

Erik isn't a frenetic bundle of energy the way Charles is, but Charles can feel the anticipation and delight coming off him in waves. Most of Erik's focus is going to the three places he's wearing Charles's jewelry-- his bracelet, his ring, and his collar. All that gorgeous metal on him, all of it marking him as belonging to Charles. And now and then he gives Charles's windcatcher a light tug, too. It's liable to make Charles's eyes cross if Erik keeps at it, but he's not going to tell Erik to stop.

«I think I need a cup of tea. Or maybe I oughtn't have any caffeine right now. Maybe there's decaf. Maybe our bloody plane could show up!»

Erik chuckles and reaches up, putting his hand on the back of Charles's neck, strong and solid. Charles closes his eyes and leans in to the contact, his chin tipping up slightly-- not that he's trying to get Erik's fingers to brush across soul's-home in public, certainly not, he just... wants. He just wants more.

The reaction he gets from Erik after tipping his head back is much more than he expected, though; Erik draws in a quick breath and squeezes the back of Charles's neck, and the emotion blasting through their bond is possessiveness, so intense it makes Charles look over at him in surprise.

Quickly, Erik takes his hand back and puts both hands in his lap, clearing his throat. "Sorry," he murmurs.

«For what? I was enjoying that. It was settling me down, too.»

«Yes, but I think I might have been crossing a line.»

Charles raises an eyebrow. «How so? If you had been, I would have told you so.»

Erik looks up at him again. «Charles-- there's something I... sometimes I feel like...»

He doesn't want to prompt Erik, for fear of stalling him out altogether, so he waits a few moments to see if Erik can get the words out himself.

" _NetJets flight 201X for Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, now ready to board._ "

Both of them jump to their feet in unison, and Charles grabs for Erik's hand. «Later, tell me later,» he sends, «let's go home.»

\---

Erik's car is already parked at the tarmac when they arrive in Pittsburgh, and the flight attendant and pilot get the luggage into the trunk as Charles and Erik disembark. Charles looks the car over, and Erik pauses. "I know it's older, but it's a classic. I keep it running myself, that's why Jason's left it with me all these years."

"It's really Jason's?" Charles asks. "Doesn't he need a car?"

"In New York, no, but he probably ought to have it if he and Kurt are settling down in L.A.," Erik admits. "I can never get them running nearly as well as my mother could, but since her power was machinery-based..."

Charles nods. "Newer cars aren't made with as much metal in the chassis, either, are they?"

"No, and they never feel nearly as safe to me. Even though they have all those bells and whistles..."

"Airbags," Charles says. "Whatever I pick is liable to be much smaller and loaded with airbags."

"Fine by me," Erik says, smiling. "There's lots of parking at my apartment building, though if you want your own garage or covered spot, we'll need to arrange that with the rental office. The garages are manual, though, so most people don't bother."

"Manual?" Charles frowns. "How does that work?"

Erik blinks at him. "It's--" It would be much easier to explain it mind-to-mind; he quickly sends an image of the unattached garages that they have at his apartment complex, the one he uses for his car-- of course, for him, his ability means he can open it at a distance instead of having to get out of the car to use a key on the garage door, and he can do the same for closing it, so it's no inconvenience to him.

But Charles is already saying, "Oh! Oh, I see, I thought--" And he sends back his own image, all the underground parking garages in Manhattan, how confused he was when he thought someone would have to get out to open up one of the gates by hand.

Erik laughs and comes around to the driver's side of the car, popping it and the passenger door open with his ability. "No, there are only underground garages closer to downtown. I'm near work, but there's enough land around where I live that we've got parking lots instead of underground parking."

"That'll be a novelty!" Charles buckles himself into his seat and squirms lightly on the leather. "So this is your car. In your city. Our city!" He beams over at Erik. "I'll probably be taking a lot of rides in this car, won't I?"

"Let's hope," Erik says, teasing slightly, and he heads off for his apartment-- _their_ apartment.

The ride there isn't terribly long, but Charles spends the whole time gazing out the windows, taking everything in. "There really is so much more space here!" he says, and then, "Look at all the petrol stations. There are _two_ on some corners!"

Erik laughs. "Manhattan really is a different experience, isn't it?"

"I'm learning as much just on the drive!"

"But the population density-- it's all right...?"

"Oh, Erik, yes, it's fine. It's not a problem at all, you really needn't worry about that." Charles reaches over and squeezes Erik's knee, which is not distracting at all, of course. "And it feels as if we're heading into more populated territory, too."

"Mm-hm. I don't live in a high-rise or anything, but it's cozy enough. And we're not really walking distance from the nearest supermarket, so is there anything we ought to pick up on the way home?"

"On the way home," Charles says with a sigh. "I like the way that sounds."

Erik smiles. «I do, too,» he sends.

«I did think of one thing we could pick up. If you wouldn't mind.»

«I don't mind at all,» Erik says, altering their route just a little to take them past his usual supermarket. «What did you have in mind?»

«Breakfast, for tomorrow. I thought... since it'll be our first night living together, that means tomorrow's our first morning living together. And I thought I could do the traditional thing, and make you breakfast.»

It's an incredibly sweet thought, but Erik can't help his instinctive reaction-- «You can cook?»

«Well,» Charles sends, scratching his nose, «something simple would be best. I'm hoping you won't request Eggs Benedict with Hollandaise sauce, but...»

«I'd be happy with Eggos and a grapefruit half,» Erik admits, grinning.

«Oh, let's aim a little higher than that!» Charles squeezes Erik's knee again. «What about pancakes and bacon? That's not too hard, is it?»

«No, that would be fine. We'll get some Bisquick and some bacon and some orange juice...» He's trying to remember what he has in his refrigerator, but he's got an unfortunate feeling he's down to a spray can of whipped cream and-- oh, God, he didn't toss out the Chinese food from last week, either, did he? Probably not. And he didn't change the sheets before coming home-- well, at least he has an in-unit washer and dryer. «Apologies in advance for the state of my apartment, I wasn't thinking ahead to having you come home with me!»

«I'm sure it'll be fine!» Charles beams at Erik. «The important part is that I _am_ here with you. Home. With you.»

At the supermarket, they load up a basket with Bisquick, milk, eggs, bacon, orange juice, and Erik adds a couple of frozen pizzas, which makes Charles chuckle. "Couldn't we just order in if we wanted pizza?"

"Well, yes, but then we'd have to put on clothes in order to open the door and pay for it."

Charles wraps an arm around Erik's waist and squeezes. "Good point. Maybe we should get a third."

Instead, Erik grabs a pound of ground beef and a box of Hamburger Helper, and gives Charles another rueful look. "This is what I end up doing for dinner on my own. Maybe we both need cooking lessons."

"We can take them together! That sounds like fun."

"It does?" Erik's not sure cooking lessons sound fun, exactly, but anything that puts that sort of smile on Charles's face might just be worth a try. "Well, we can look into it when we get home."

"Home." Charles weaves his arms under Erik's, neatly dodging the shopping basket, and hugs him around the waist. "Are we done shopping?"

"Close enough, as far as I'm concerned."

"Wonderful. Let's go, then."

After they've paid for the groceries-- and Erik's discovered Charles's strong preference for paper over plastic-- there's only about a five-minute drive separating them from their new lives together, and Erik feels his heartbeat speeding up as they get closer and closer to his apartment complex. He turns into the parking lot and drives around until they're at his building, and as he showed Charles with the mental image earlier, he uses his ability to open the garage door for his freestanding garage. They pull in, Charles glances around at the shelves and implements-- all for car maintenance-- and Erik pops the doors for them, again with his ability.

"Full service!" Charles marvels. He wiggles his eyebrows at Erik. "What else does cohabiting with you get me?"

"Just about anything," Erik says, laughing. He pulls the groceries out of the back seat, pops the trunk so they can each get a carryon bag over their shoulders-- they can come back for their suitcases-- and leads Charles out to his building, shutting the garage door along the way. His particular apartment is two floors up, and he gets the door with his ability, too, easily holding it open while he and Charles make their way inside.

"It's not very big," Erik says, already feeling apologetic-- if he'd had time to think about this first, he could have gone looking for a better apartment for them. He drops his carryon bag just inside the door, next to the television; he needs to get the groceries put away before he does anything else, since there's frozen pizza and ground beef to take care of. The kitchen is just a few steps from the front door, straight ahead, so it's only a moment before he's got the fridge and freezer open and the food put away. Thank God, at least there aren't any dishes in the sink. He'd hate to have Charles think he's a slob. Then again, the dirty sheets on the bed might take care of that for him...

Charles is still looking at the living room, and the lack of division between it and the kitchen and the area that ought to be the dining room. There's a hall on the left, leading to the bathroom on one side and the bedroom on the other. In the living room, there's a television, an armchair, a coffee table, and a couch-- the back of the couch more or less continues the line of the left-side hallway, all the way over to the kitchen.

The kitchen is really more of a U-shaped alcove with all the necessary elements packed in: fridge, sink, stove, microwave, dishwasher. There's a bar on one side of the kitchen, the dining room side, and a couple of bar stools. The dining room has Erik's workbench in it, and the workbench is really a pair of conference tables set up in an L-shape, covered in bits and pieces of jewelry in progress, plus a velvet mat on one end for pieces that are done and need photographing.

On the right-hand wall, coming in from the front door, there's the front closet, and a second closet with sliding doors-- that one has the stacked washer/dryer and the hot water heater in it. And that's all. Erik's apartment really is just the bare minimum, no frills.

But Charles seems delighted, looking around at everything. He drops his carryon bag on the floor next to Erik's. "Show me everything," he says. "Where do I put my coat and shoes?"

"The closet right there," Erik says, giving it a tug with his ability to open up the bifold door. "For your coat, at least. Shoes, wherever you like. I don't generally make people take off their shoes when they come in, though you can if you want."

Charles finds a hanger and puts his coat away, and toes off his shoes, setting them beside the closet door. "What's in here?" he asks, going to the sliding-door closet. "You don't mind if I look?"

"Of course not," Erik says, putting the Hamburger Helper into the cabinet and tucking the paper bag under the sink. "It's your apartment. You live here now."

"I live here now," Charles repeats, beaming. He slides open the closet door and looks inside, nodding at the hot water heater and lifting the lid of the top-load washer to peer into that as well. "Do you have a dry cleaner? Are they close?"

"Finnell's, when there's any need. It's right next door to the jewelry shop."

"Ah! Convenient." Charles grins and closes the closet. He looks around, heading into the dining room and going straight for the workbench, surveying the various pieces of metal. "Oh, you do your jewelry work here! I wondered!"

"Yes." Erik tucks his hands into his back pockets and rocks forward on the balls of his feet. "Do you see anything you like?"

"I like all of it," Charles says. He leans forward and takes a look at the last piece Erik was working on before he left, a pair of earrings with gift-made filigree hanging down. "So delicate! I didn't realize your ability was up to this sort of thing."

"It is. Especially when we've just gotten off the phone." Now it's Erik's turn to beam. "I'm curious what I'll be able to do now that you'll be right here with me."

"So am I!" Charles comes around toward Erik, and Erik meets him halfway, reaching out to pull Charles into a hug. «I hope you can do everything you want, now.»

«I hope so for you, too,» Erik agrees, resting his forehead against Charles's. «I can't wait to see what your power can do when it's at its fullest again.»

«It would be nice to get my old range back,» Charles responds, smiling up at him. «I could sense people for fifty miles, then. More, sometimes. Raven went to a specialist in Albany a few times, and I was able to sense her there, and I could get moods from the people around her... that was around a hundred miles away.»

Erik nods. «Kurt said something like that. We'll have to experiment with it now that you're here. I'm rarely out of a ten-mile radius of the apartment, so maybe you could reach me while I'm at work.»

Charles hugs him again. «As long as I'm not interrupting anything... I'd love that.»

«There's two more rooms you haven't seen,» Erik sends, his hands moving slowly up and down Charles's bed. «Come on, this way.»

«It does seem like there's something rather important missing in the tour as yet,» Charles sends back, his own hands moving down to Erik's ass and giving him a quick squeeze. «Show me!»

Erik takes Charles's hand and draws him down to the bathroom-- it's small, but the shower could probably hold two as long as they were very close together. There's only one sink, and Erik only has one bath towel out, but he does own others, and they're even clean. He opens the cabinet under the sink and pulls out a second bath towel, pushing his towel over on the rack to make room for it. Charles grins as Erik hangs up the second one. "You weren't joking about liking red," he teases. Both towels are a dark burgundy, as is the shower curtain.

"We can always get other towels if you want," Erik says. "There's a mall not too far from here..."

"We probably will need to go shopping," Charles admits. He pulls the shower curtain back and peers into the bathtub, and thank God, Erik cleaned it not that long ago, it doesn't have any visible stains. It also doesn't have much in the way of supplies, which makes Erik think back to their hotels and the cabin in Mill Point... there might not be room for everything Charles usually has in the bathroom, although surely he doesn't need _all_ those things, does he?

"I can get one of those shower racks, too," Erik adds.

"Good idea." Charles grins. "Something in chrome, no doubt."

Erik grins back at him. "If you leave it up to me, it'll all be metal."

"I can live with that." Charles's smile goes huge again, and he says, "I _do_ live with that."

"You do," Erik says, reaching out and hugging him. The two of them turn slightly to catch sight of themselves in the medicine cabinet mirror, and Erik feels a bubble of sentimentality welling up. His home, with his soulmate. It might not be what he used to imagine when he was fifteen, but it's every bit as good as those teenage dreams. It's _real_.

"One last room," Erik says, and he draws Charles across the hall into the bedroom. For once, he's not wondering if this room is going to be cramped-- it's an oversized room, particularly for a one-bedroom apartment. There's more than enough room for his king-sized bed, even with its huge iron bedframe, and he has a dresser tucked into the corner, plus half of one wall is made up of mirrored closet doors. There'd be room for a spanking bench if they wanted one, or some other piece of custom furniture. And since he's on the top floor, the ceilings are high enough for singletail work.

"One dresser," Charles muses. "Dual-function?"

"Ah, no, that's just clothes. All the toys are in the nightstands." Erik waves a hand at one of the nightstands, and the drawers slide obligingly open to reveal lube, a serious collection of metal dildos and plugs, Erik's favorite vibrator, and an assortment of other things. Charles goes over and looks inside, and makes a soft hum of approval. Erik exhales softly; it's not that he thought Charles wouldn't approve of the selection, he knows what Erik likes and what Erik usually uses-- which often isn't much, aside from the Eleven and its smaller cousins-- but having his dominant making little pleased noises is definitely a plus.

"There's room for a second dresser, I think," Charles says, looking around, "and how much of your closet is free?"

"Most of it," Erik says. The closet doors are on metal rails, too, of course, so he's able to open the closet from here, showing off his few suits and an untidy pile of boots on the closet floor.

"Oh, excellent! There's plenty of room for everything I'd need, then." Charles heads for the bed and hops up onto the foot of the mattress, one hand reaching out to curve around the iron post there-- like all four corners of the bed, there's a solid, sturdy post leading up to a bare canopy above. "And plenty of room here, too."

Erik licks his lips. «You don't say.»

Charles crooks a finger at him. «Come here.»

He feels like an iron filing must, being drawn to a magnet. There's nowhere else he could imagine wanting to go. A few steps, and he's standing in front of Charles, with Charles's hands tugging Erik in close, wedging Erik's hips between his thighs. Charles reaches up, his hands moving slowly up Erik's chest, and when his fingertips reach Erik's collar, he hooks two fingers through the ring and pulls Erik down into a hot, claiming kiss.

«Erik,» Charles sends, thoughts purring into Erik's mind. «I've wanted this for so long...»

Erik drapes his arms around Charles's neck and kisses him back, opening up, giving ground. It feels even easier here than it did in Niagara Falls. This is his apartment, his city; he isn't going to lose himself by having Charles here. He's not losing anything, nothing at all. And he's gaining so much. _Charles_ , here with him, every day.

«I didn't even know how much I wanted you _here_ until we were in Niagara Falls. And now you are...»

«Now I am.» Charles reaches for Erik's wrist, the one with the bracelet, and Erik lets him take it. But instead of just holding it, Charles twists, and tugs, and suddenly Erik's up on the bed with him, Charles climbing on top of him and straddling his hips.

«Charles!» Erik sends, delighted-- it's always a bit of a surprise when Charles manhandles him, but it thrills Erik to the bone. Erik might be taller than Charles, but Charles's compact frame hides a lot of strength. Erik reaches up and strokes Charles's thighs-- he's never going to get tired of the way those muscles feel under his hands, and he loves that he's one of the few people who knows just what all of Charles's twill, tweed, and khaki are hiding.

«Erik,» Charles returns, a wicked grin coming over his face. He licks his lips. «We saved ourselves for later, so we wouldn't be chafed once we got here... but now we _are_ here, and it _is_ later.»

Erik's expression heats, too, and he reaches up to Charles's waist, holding onto him. «So it is,» he sends. «What would you like to do first?»

Charles leans down on top of him, his mouth finding Erik's in another blazingly hot kiss. He reaches down for Erik's hands and pins them to the bed, one hand holding Erik's bracelet, the other laced with Erik's so he can have his fingers against Erik's ring. «Mine,» Charles thinks, «all mine, this city can't have you all to itself anymore, you're _mine_.»

It's so easy to give himself over to Charles, and even here in Pittsburgh, it doesn't feel like giving anything up-- it's _taking_ , if it's anything. Taking Charles's willingness to move at face value, taking him home, taking all this stunning dominant power over and over and practically gorging himself on it. «You're mine, too,» Erik sends back, just as passionately. «Mine. Charles, _mine!_ » He tugs at Charles's windcatcher, soft at first and then harder, until Charles's lips part in a smile and he pulls back to look at Erik.

«Yours, too, yes, Erik.»

Erik looks at the buttons on Charles's shirt-- metal, now, they're _metal_ , Charles did that for _him_. With that in mind, Erik focuses his power and undoes those buttons, one by one, until all that's between him and Charles is Charles's thin microfiber undershirt. He can't see the windcatcher swinging freely, but he wants to-- he wants to see his claim on Charles as readily as Charles can see his claim on Erik-- so he slips the windcatcher out from under Charles's shirt and sets it to spinning, the shining steel rings moving around and around.

«It looks so right on you. So good on you,» Erik sends, tugging at it again. «All those years I was holding onto it for you, and now I get to feel it on you every day.»

«All those years I imagined you wearing this for me,» Charles says, freeing one of Erik's hands so he can touch Erik's collar, «and now I'll get to put it on you every morning.»

Erik reaches up and cups the back of Charles's neck, pulling Charles back down to him. This time, when he kisses Charles, he lets himself swallow Charles up in a heavy claim of his own, his hand sliding up to Charles's joining spot. «I need you. I need you so much, Charles. Be here with me, stay with me, be _mine._ »

«I am! I will... I'm yours, Erik, yours, and you're mine, we're together, _finally_!» Erik can feel the rush of relief and happiness and even gratitude that Charles is emanating, and he could kick himself for making the both of them wait so long-- but Charles has said, all this time, that he was waiting for Erik to be ready, that he wanted Erik to be sure, and Erik couldn't be more ready or more certain. His dom's come home with him. He's _here_. Erik arches up against Charles, offering everything-- Charles isn't the only one who's grateful for all of this.

Charles tugs at the hem of Erik's shirt-- today, it's a thin long-sleeved sweater that Kurt raved over, in a heathered, muted purple-- and Erik lifts up off the mattress slightly so Charles can pull it off him. Charles tosses it aside and leans down, kissing Erik's neck where the collar rests, just above and below, licking at a spot Erik knows is already bruised. When Erik goes back to work, he's going to be collared and marked-- and hopefully he'll have Charles at his side, to introduce to his friends and co-workers.

But it isn't just Erik's neck that Charles is after now. Charles starts moving down, kissing and nibbling at Erik's chest, rubbing his cheeks back and forth against the center of it, where Erik has a sparse bit of chest hair. «I should probably shave that,» he sends.

«What for? I don't mind it.» As if to prove it, Charles lays a kiss against that patch of hair, and looks up at Erik.

«It's-- don't most subs shave?» Maybe that's just in porn...

«I don't care what 'most' subs do,» Charles sends firmly. «I want _you_ , not someone else's idea of what a submissive should be. I like you as you are.» And he tips his head down and nuzzles Erik's chest hair again. «Besides, if we were like a stereotypical dom and sub, I'd need to have some implanted.»

Erik laughs at that and shakes his head firmly. «Absolutely not. Your chest is perfect already.»

«My chest and its four thousand freckles...»

«I have freckles,» Erik points out. «I like yours.»

«Hmm, so you do,» Charles sends, kissing them as he makes his way across Erik's chest to his right nipple. And then Erik sucks in a breath, bracing himself-- whatever Charles is about to do, Erik has a feeling it's going to make his toes curl.

He starts with a slow, gentle lick, and then quickly ramps it up, sucking Erik's nipple hard, until Erik cries out for him. And then he bites, testing Erik's pain tolerance, and Erik keeps gasping, panting out "Yes, yes, yes," as Charles bites harder and harder. When the moans and _yes_ -es turn to a hot, wordless cry, Charles stops there, letting Erik feel it, letting the electric sensation of that much pain rip through Erik's body. It's _glorious_.

Erik opens his eyes again when Charles lets go of the bite, and when their eyes meet, Erik's cock jerks and his whole body feels lit from within. Charles's grin is powerful and predatory and _thrilled_. «You like this,» Erik manages to think, «you really like this. With me.»

«I feel as if there's never been a greater understatement,» Charles sends back. «Do you know how much I want to give you what you want, Erik? And that you want me to hurt you, and you can take so much for me...» He tips his head down again, and Erik buries his hands in Charles's hair, needing that much more connection as Charles licks over the first nipple, to soothe it, and makes his way to Erik's other nipple, to nip and suck and bite, again, every bit as hard as the first time.

«Oh God, oh God, yes, _yes_ \--» Erik gasps and gets that out in words, aloud, "Yes, yes, Charles, yes, God, yes, please, don't stop, please, please!"

Charles's groan makes Erik even more desperate, and when Charles grinds down against him, Erik's eyes nearly roll back in his head. Charles lifts up to give Erik another rest, and Erik all but collapses underneath him. «So good you're so good you're so _good_ ,» and Erik's not sure he managed to send the actual words for that, but the look on Charles's face says he got the message across.

"You're incredible," Charles whispers back, leaning down to kiss the center of Erik's chest again. "I want so many things, Erik-- I want to put clamps on you and take you from behind so you can feel them swinging, I want to put clothespins up and down your sides and pull them off one by one, I want to strap you, fuck you, hurt you with my hands and my mouth--"

"Yes! Everything, all of it--" Erik's grabbing at his nightstand with his ability, hunting for things in the drawer by feel-- normally he doesn't do it like this, normally he'd actually go over to the drawer and fish through it by hand, but with Charles on top of him and his body humming with urgency, it feels like he could do anything.

There are hex nuts in the lube, the clover clamps are too distinctive to be mistaken for anything else, and a row of chrome clothespins comes dancing out of the drawer, even though Erik's tried those several times and they don't really stick that well for him, not unless he's using his power to hold them on. All the same, he drops everything in a heap at Charles's side, and Charles laughs delightedly, stroking his hands up and down Erik's chest and grinning from him to the toys and back again.

"Full service! I approve." Charles takes one of the clothespins and inspects it for a moment. "These look slippery, though. Do they hold?"

"Only if I hold them."

"Could you?"

Erik gives him a look. «I'm liable to get distracted,» he points out. «But--»

«Distracted?» Charles smirks-- and then he puts the end of the clothespin in his mouth and sucks lightly on it. Which is all Erik can take-- he sits up, puts his arms around Charles's waist, and starts kissing Charles's neck, his hands tugging at Charles's shirts, getting them out of his waistband, baring Charles's skin and reaching beneath his shirt so he can flatten his hands against Charles's body.

It isn't fair to say it's never been like this before; they've had so many first times, it feels like, their first kiss at Jason's wedding, and their first time in the hotel room in Boston, and the first time they were reunited in Mill Point, the first time on the plane, headed for Niagara Falls, with Erik giving Charles his submission completely... but this is still different from any of those times, more complete somehow, Erik holding Charles and touching him in _their_ bedroom, in _their_ bed. Erik nuzzles Charles's neck again, and Charles tips his head to the side, letting Erik do as he pleases, and yes, Erik's noticed this before, how Charles's neck is sensitive, how much he likes to have it kissed and touched and stroked. And more...?

He doesn't need to think about more, not at a time like this; it would be greedy as hell to want more when he's gotten everything he even thought about wanting, just this weekend.

«Charles,» he sends, and he hopes the gratefulness and relief shine through on the word. «I'm so glad you're here.»

Charles finally sets the clothespin down and puts both hands at the nape of Erik's neck, working up to soul's-home. «I'm glad I'm here, too. And I'm glad I'm _here_.» For a brief moment, between the telepathy and Charles's hands stimulating that spot, Erik feels a hint of connection-- too short a time, but something's still there, something's always connecting them, no matter how damaged their bond might be.

He comes up and kisses Charles's mouth, and Charles claims his, his tongue thrusting hot and demanding between Erik's lips. Erik sighs into that, opening up for it. «I'm glad you're there, I _want_ you there, only you, Charles, I've only ever wanted _you_ there...»

Charles draws away for an instant, cupping soul's-home a bit more lightly. «I know, Erik. I promise you, I know that now.»

Erik reaches up to mirror Charles's hold on him, his hands at Charles's joining spot, keeping the touch light. «I'd want it to be you, if there'd never been anyone for either of us. I'd choose you all over again, if I had to.»

«I'm right here, Erik. And I'd choose you, too.» Charles rests his forehead against Erik's. «We've chosen each other.» He reaches for Erik's ring and rubs the pad of his thumb against it; reaches for his windcatcher and presses it against his heart. «No one could ever take that away from us.»

How they can turn on a dime from hot and desperate to sweet, Erik doesn't know. It's not like this in any of his beat-up romance stroke books. But it feels more real because of that, the two of them shifting at a moment's notice to share what they're thinking and feeling.

Still... Erik's nipples are still pleasantly sore from the bites a few moments ago, and he's still hungry to get more of Charles in him and on him. He pushes Charles's shirt off his shoulders and smiles up at him. «What do you say, Charles? Ready to christen the bed?»

And just like that, Charles's eyes are gleaming with interest all over again. «Absolutely,» Charles sends, jerking out of his shirt, pulling his undershirt off over his head. He backs off the bed, but only long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off while Erik does the same.

Erik glances over at the metal toys lying beside them on the bed. He tugs the clamps over and gives Charles a hopeful look. «I haven't played with these in a long time,» he sends. «I liked the idea of you taking me from behind, if you're up for that.»

«It's an excellent start!» Charles sends back, climbing right back on top of Erik and stretching out, rubbing up against him, their cocks sliding together for a moment before Charles climbs that last bit up to get his mouth on Erik's. Erik does get the chance to spread his legs this time, to get Charles tucked between them, and he's never going to get over how good this feels, how right it feels to have Charles's strong hips and thighs working and flexing between his own.

One more kiss, and Charles lifts up, looking into Erik's eyes. «Not in a long time,» he sends, reaching over for the clamps. «Any particular reason?»

Erik's nose wrinkles. «It's like trying to tickle myself. I _can't_ give myself the kind of pain I'm interested in, not really.»

Charles's face lights. «So it's something you've been missing out on?»

«Definitely.»

«Something that's going to be better now that your dom's moved in with you?»

Erik laughs. «One of many things. But yes. I think any deficiencies in my sex life are officially over.»

«Let's prove it.» Charles strokes one hand down Erik's chest and pinches his nipple, tugging it lightly, getting it hard and then harder-- it wouldn't take this much attention just to get it ready for the clamp, Erik's been known to just tug and clip the things into place, but Charles seems to like all the preparation. And Erik isn't going to stop him. The look on Charles's face, all that concentration being focused on _him_... it occurs to Erik that he's never seen a dominant look this way with him, never even imagined it could happen. Charles isn't imagining all the ways this scene could be better, isn't thinking about other subs while he's here. He's watching Erik's responses and ratcheting up Erik's pleasure with every move he makes, and it settles Erik down, helps him sink into the moment.

When Charles finally gets the first clamp on Erik's nipple, he tugs it a little so Erik can feel it getting tighter, and Erik shudders lightly, his eyes closing.

«Good?»

«Yes, very,» Erik sends. «Thank you... can I have the other?» He gets his eyes open so he can look at Charles when he adds, «Please?»

Charles moans and bends his head down to flick his tongue over Erik's nipple and the clamp, and the fact that Erik can feel both sensations-- Charles's tongue on his skin, Charles's tongue running over that complicated metal-- makes Erik gasp and rock up against him. Charles is rocking down at the same time, his cock sliding against Erik's bare stomach. «I don't know if I'll ever be able to express what it does to me when I hear you say 'please',» Charles sends.

«I think I'm starting to learn,» Erik sends, grinning wickedly at him. «You're going to be hearing it a lot more, now that you live here.»

«Am I?» Charles tilts his head up and grins right back, his expression every bit as wicked. «I can't wait to find out how much.»

Erik reaches up and strokes Charles's temple. «You don't have to wait. Please, Charles. The other one. Please? And then you, inside me... hard... from behind... you could do it at the foot of the bed, if you wanted. So you could see us.»

Charles growls aloud and moves to Erik's other nipple, sucking on it, getting this one hard, too, and ready for the second clamp. This time, he's not as patient as he was with the first-- but neither is Erik, squirming beneath Charles's body and panting for breath, ready to have that clamp hurting him, ready to be put on all fours and _taken_. And it seems as though Charles is ready, too, because he draws back and puts the second clamp on, making Erik take in a breath through his teeth. All that stimulation made him that much more sensitive, and now both nipples have pain radiating through them, pain that Charles is giving him. _His_ Charles, hurting Erik because Erik _wants_ him to. And they can have this every day, every night, any time they want. Erik can only hope Charles doesn't get tired of having a greedy sub anytime soon.

«Now,» Charles sends, climbing off Erik and giving him a nudge towards the foot of the bed. «All fours, face the mirror. I want us _both_ looking at you. Seeing how good you are for me, how much you want this.»

«You think I'll be able to take my eyes off you?» But Erik gets up on his hands and knees, looking into the mirror-- and using his ability to adjust the fit of the clamps so they hang down just right, so they won't be at any risk of slipping free unless Charles pulls them off.

He meets Charles's eyes, and it really would be an effort to get his eyes off Charles now that he's looking-- Charles's hair is mussed, his shoulders and upper chest are dotted with freckles, but they're also firmly muscled, along with his triceps and biceps... the man has incredible arms, and Erik can't wait to have Charles really give him a workout with them. A strap, maybe, or a belt... barehanded has always been fine...

Charles leans forward and slips one hand onto the chain between Erik's nipples. «I know what you're thinking about,» he sends. «And I've thought about that, too. How strong _you_ are. How much you'll be able to take for me. How much I'll get to indulge myself, when it's time to give you the strapping you've been aching for.»

It's all Erik can do not to squirm or try to get Charles to tug on that chain. «Indulge yourself. Now. Come on,» he sends.

«When I'm ready,» Charles answers, his fingers twisting through the chain-- but only lightly and slowly enough to be a tease, not enough to pay off on all the pain he could be delivering. «We're in this together, darling, but I'm the one who's lucky enough to be in charge. You gave me that,» he sends, and he leans down to plant an affectionate kiss against the back of Erik's shoulder, his mind full of wonder and pleasure that's leaking across to Erik. «I'm not taking it for granted... but I'm going to take full advantage, every time you offer.»

On second thought, it doesn't sound at all like Charles is going to get tired of having a greedy sub. Erik grins, tilting his head, trying to look behind him at Charles. «Good,» he sends. «I want you taking advantage. I want you taking _me_. I want you to put me down, get me on the floor for you, use my throat or my ass or my body, rub up, get off--» His mind's full of images, and he tries to open up and send them to Charles: Erik on the floor just out of a shower, Charles pausing just long enough to get a collar on him before pushing his legs against his chest and fucking into him; Erik on his knees in front of this mirror, Charles's hand in his hair, gripping tightly as he shoves his cock into Erik's throat again and again; Erik riding Charles while Charles pinches him and scratches him and--

\--and the image changes to Charles scratching him with vampire gloves, which makes Erik gasp and shove back hard against Charles, babbling out a "yes, yes, _yes_ , Charles, yes, please!"

Charles laughs. «I've been meaning to get some of those for you. But I'm guessing you'll be picky about them. So I thought, maybe I'd wait until we could shop for them together... and we can do that any time, now.»

«Any time _but_ now!» Erik protests. «You're supposed to be fucking me, aren't you?»

Laughing again, Charles crawls back and kneels up behind Erik, his hands on Erik's hips. He rests his hand on Erik's ass for a moment, just long enough for Erik to know what's coming, and then he lands a rough, quick smack against Erik's right cheek. Erik yelps and then pushes back against him, tilting his ass up.

«More? Please!»

He can hear Charles letting out a breath between his teeth. «I'm never going to get tired of hearing you say that. Not ever.» And he delivers a second smack to Erik's left cheek, alternating sides now, one blow after another, until Erik's rocking back and forth and the chain between his nipples is swinging, teasing him with the promise of more pain. All he'd have to do is use his ability to tug...

«Not yet,» Charles sends. «Do you have-- never mind, I'd never have the patience to get the feel for something new right now. I'll use my belt,» he's already bending to yank it free of his pants. He holds the buckle in his hand, the nickel plate warming from his skin, and swiftly wraps the belt around his palm til he has a six-inch length to work with, letting Erik see it in the mirror, trailing it down his back to let him feel the leather. «All right?» He doesn't wait for Erik to try to put it into words, just takes the mental affirmation and brings the belt down with a resounding smack, the noise almost as shockingly satisfying as the pain.

The strikes come too fast for Erik to even think _more,_ he's getting as much pain as he could want, sharp and even across his ass and the backs of his thighs. «Please, don't stop, don't stop,» he's thinking instead, and the sense of affirmation he gets from Charles mind-to-mind, the overflow of tremendous desire and lush pleasure and fierce devotion-- that's enough to make him giddy all on its own.

The strap begins to come down more erratically, and Erik assumes it's to get the color even; that's how it always seems to go in porn. Charles sends, «It's not that... you're coloring up beautifully, it doesn't have to be uniform, you're not a canvas, you're my sub. I'm reading you for where you're not sore yet and bringing it down there. I want you feeling this everywhere tomorrow.»

That's guaranteed by the time Charles casts the belt aside and gives Erik three more hard smacks with his hand and then a rest, caressing the tender sensitized skin. He leaves his left hand resting on Erik's ass while he grabs the lube with his other hand. It's got a pump-top, so it's easy enough for Charles to get lube one-handed and work it into Erik's ass, getting him ready.

«Charles, please,» Erik sends, groaning. «I need you... please, I need you to fuck me... please...»

«I need it, too,» Charles promises. «Look up, love-- look at me, look--»

Erik throws his head back and looks into the mirror again, and now Charles is biting his lower lip, his eyes narrowed as he guides his cock into Erik's ass-- and when he's there, all the way in, he closes his eyes and moans, hands on Erik's hips, head tilted forward.

He looks stunning. He looks gorgeous, and he looks like he loves every second of this. He might even love it as much as Erik does, although Erik has a hard time believing it-- Erik's full and aching and thrilled, and anticipation is running through him, the need to be fucked and hurt and pleased building up with every second Charles makes him wait.

«Please. Charles... please. Please!»

«More,» Charles sends, his hands tightening on Erik's hips. «Go on, love... more...»

Erik tries to push back, but Charles's hands hold him in place. He could tug at the chain between his nipples, but he's trying-- he's trying so hard to be good, to obey orders, to do what Charles wants. And Charles said _more_. He's said he won't get tired of hearing Erik say please... Erik can _beg_ , and it'll just turn Charles on more and more.

The heat of that knowledge rises up, and Erik's never felt more powerful in his life. «Please,» he sends, his mental voice a growl. «Please, Charles. Please fuck me. Please do it, please, _now_ , please!»

"Oh, God, oh God," Charles bursts out, "God, _yes_ , Erik--" And finally, he starts to move, his cock sliding out of Erik's ass and then pushing back in, smooth, solid, the perfect fit for both of them.

It's hard to take this at Charles's pace, so hard, but Erik isn't just kneeling there and waiting. He keeps sending words, looking Charles in the eyes-- that mirror is going to be one of his favorite parts of the bedroom from now on, he just knows it-- and again and again, as Charles drives into him, he sends «Please» and «Yes, Charles» and «More, I love it, I love it, _please_!» Charles's hips snap against Erik's ass, pounding against the marks he left on Erik's bare skin, and the solid thrum of pain makes everything that much more arousing and thrilling. His dom wants him, wanted to give him pain, wants to be with him and start a life with him here-- _is_ starting a life with him here, this is only the first time in their home together. There's going to be a next, and a next, and a next, and they'll sleep in this bed together and they'll wake up together and--

«Yes, Erik, all of that, yes, _yes_ ,» Charles sends, clutching at Erik's hips, his fingernails too short to dig in but his fingertips pressing in hard enough to leave marks. «Love you, need you, this is _us_ , our life together, you and me, my love, my sub, _mine_!»

«Harder,» Erik pleads, «more, I want to feel it tomorrow, all day, feel you inside me, please, Charles!» He tries pushing back again, and this time Charles lets him. Perfect, fantastic, Erik shoves back and fills himself with Charles's cock, sets the chain between his nipples swinging with the force of it. He groans aloud, and so does Charles, who meets Erik's rough thrust back with an equally-strong thrust of his own.

«If I had your ability,» Charles sends, leaning forward so he can reach the clamp on Erik's left nipple, «I'd be pulling these. I'd pull them until you were so hard you were dripping pre-come, leaking all over the bed for me, until you were begging me to take them off so you could feel that pain all through your body--»

_Can't you?_ Erik wonders, but just because his fantasies have sometimes involved Charles reaching through his mind to use Erik's power, that doesn't mean it's something Charles's ability would let him do. «I'd want you to,» he sends instead. «God, Charles, I'd want that so much, I'd beg you for that, if you could, if _we_ could. Please, pull on them, hurt me, let me take that for you--» Honesty compels him to admit, even in the moment, though: «--let me take it for _me_ , I'll love it, I want it, I want it so much, Charles, please, please--»

A little further forward, and Charles can reach the chain with ease. He tugs at it, lightly, and the clamps tighten and Erik gasps aloud. "Yes," Erik moans. "God, yes, more, please, _yes_!"

«Hold them on. Don't let them come off until I tell you,» Charles orders, still thrusting into Erik at a hard and steady pace. «Ready?»

"Yes!"

Another tug, this one much firmer, and Erik shudders and groans, pushing back against Charles's cock, tugging up against that chain, pain spiking through him. It makes his cock jerk, his balls draw up tight against his body, it's so good, it's _so_ good, and using his ability to keep those clamps on his nipples is a challenge-- but one he knows he can handle. He can do this for Charles. He can do it for both of them.

«Do you know how good you'd taste if I could have you in my mouth right now-- how good you taste when you're so turned on you're leaking-- how much I love sucking you, Erik, you're so gorgeous, your cock is amazing, the way it fills my mouth and my throat...»

God! All this and dirty talk, too? Dirty thoughts? Erik just keeps groaning, moving with Charles, unable to quite make himself look up at the mirror now-- it would split his concentration too much to be looking at what's happening to him instead of just feeling it.

«You're mine,» Charles sends, «my mate, my love, you're mine and I never have to let you go, I'm going to make you feel so _good_ , Erik, I want to give you everything--»

«--yes, that, please, it's what I want, too, Charles-- everything, I want you to have it all, _me_ , please--»

This time it's Charles's turn to groan aloud, and he wraps his fingers up in the chain. Erik can see sparks, can feel their bond lighting up between them-- he feels Charles inside him and on him and near him, through the bond, right here with him-- they're so close, it's so good--

«Let them go,» Charles orders, and Erik releases his grip on the clamps so Charles can pull them off-- not the fast rip Erik was anticipating, but a quick squeeze at the base of one and then the other. It still sets his nipples on fire, having the circulation come back to them, and as Charles pushes back up, bracing himself on Erik's hips, Erik throws his head back and cries out-- it hurts, it's wonderful, it all feels so amazing...!

Charles moans, and he leans forward, reaching around to Erik's cock. It's just the way Charles wanted it, dripping with pre-come, and Charles slicks his palm with it and draws his hand up the length of Erik's cock, stroking him off with the wetness of Erik's own arousal. «Can you wait? Can you wait until I tell you?»

Erik's not so sure he can-- but here and now, in this bed, he's going to try to do anything Charles wants him to. «I'll try,» he answers.

It sparks off a huge sensation of love and lust from Charles, who twists his hand just under the head of Erik's cock and slams into him, again and again. None of which makes holding back easy! Erik goes still, making himself give over to Charles completely-- every sensation he feels, every moment of pleasure, all up to Charles's decisions.

«Yours,» Erik sends, and then it's his turn to open up and give Charles love and lust-- and if it's not patience he's feeling, exactly, it's a willingness to obey and wait.

Charles gasps, and then gasps again, and suddenly he's moving fast and hard into Erik, one stroke after another, his hand in perfect time with his hips, shoving in and jerking Erik off and there's no possible way Erik can hold back, not a chance, it's too good, he _needs_ to, needs to-- «please, Charles, please please please please--»

«Yes, love, _now_!»

Both of them, then, together, Charles pulsing in Erik's ass while Erik comes all over Charles's hand, and Erik's breathless already, shaking so hard he thinks his arms will give out. Charles collapses forward, hand still around Erik's cock, the rest of him draped over Erik's back, and Charles's breath is coming as heavy and fast as Erik's is.

Given how hard Erik came, the sheets are going to be wrecked, but Erik can't hold himself up any longer. He falls flat on his stomach, and brings Charles along with him, Charles's cock sliding out of Erik's ass on the way down-- but Charles just clambers up slightly and puts his mouth on soul's-home, kissing Erik there, nuzzling him, nearly making Erik's cock pulse one more time with the leftover sensations.

«Mine,» Charles sends. «Erik, I'm so _happy_. I'm so happy to be here. Thank you.»

Erik reaches back to get his hand on Charles's hip. «Thank you for coming. For being here. Belonging here. With me.»

He doesn't need the bond or Charles's telepathy to feel Charles's joy all around him. It's one of the sweetest things he's ever felt, and he hopes it doesn't wear off anytime soon.

\---

Charles has never had a frozen pizza for dinner before, but since it's one of Erik's go-to dinners, he gives it a try.

His dubious expression must show after the first bite, because Erik says, "Ah. Should we have gone for delivery after all? It's not too late."

"No, this is fine. It's... food, at least," Charles offers. "It just reminds me of some of the things I ate at Harvard."

"In a bad way, I take it?"

"Well, no, not precisely, but I'm not a college student anymore, either."

"There are a couple of delivery places I like," Erik says. "Next time we'll go for one of them."

"That sounds good!" Charles snuggles closer to Erik on the sofa. "I do like this part, though. The picnic-like atmosphere of eating on the sofa. Well, if picnics had sofas instead of blankets."

Erik glances around the living room and dining room and kitchen, and gives Charles a second apologetic look. "This is where I always eat," he admits. "Well, I guess there's the kitchen bar, but I'm rarely over there."

Charles blinks, and his gaze drifts around the rooms, too. When it hits him, he boggles for a moment at Erik, and says, "You don't have a dining table? Anywhere?"

Erik gestures around the apartment. "Where would I be keeping it?"

"I don't know... I suppose I assumed you'd just gotten it temporarily out of the way for your workspace. But that's not temporary, is it? You've been talking about working on jewelry for months and months." Charles tries to imagine how cramped the dining area would be if it did have a dining table in it, and the picture is not appealing. "You really eat all your meals at the sofa? Unless you're out to eat?"

"It's not as uncommon as you might be thinking," Erik says, and Charles can feel a bit of defensiveness radiating from him. "At least I don't do it with the television on."

"Thank goodness," Charles says, heartfelt. "I do appreciate that. I can't stand having a television on during meals."

"I don't mind it so much, but I'd rather be paying attention to you." Erik flashes him a grin, and Charles sighs happily, leaning toward Erik again and nuzzling his shoulder. "See? That's why."

"Well, maybe we could move some things around and make space for a dining table," Charles says. "But for now, this is fine. We can make do."

"I'd figured you'd want a desk, and I was trying to imagine where we'd put it. I really don't watch TV much... maybe we could get rid of it and move the living room furniture around. And then we could..." Erik shakes his head, and Charles understands; the apartment really isn't very large, so getting a desk and a dining room table in here would be a challenge. "I'm not sure. We could put something in the bedroom..."

"If we're putting furniture in the bedroom, I don't want a desk or a dining table!" Charles says immediately, laughing. "A spanking bench, though. That I'd like."

Erik's eyes light. "So would I."

"And I don't suppose you've ever used a fucking machine before..."

"They're so expensive," Erik says. "I've thought about it, even thought about building one. But these days..." He coughs and takes a drink of soda-- he's got root beer instead of a microbrew tonight. "Well, these days I just use the Eleven, and I can move that just as easily as a fucking machine would move on its own."

"Is it really the Eleven every time? I saw other sizes in your drawer..."

"Oh, not every time," Erik says. "Just when I'm thinking particularly aggressive thoughts. About you."

Charles's grin nearly makes his cheeks hurt. "I like the sound of that. I can't wait to have you show me."

"I will. Sometime soon," Erik promises. "The only problem is..." He reaches out and slides a hand onto Charles's knee. «Right now, I'm a lot more interested in _you_ than in anything metal.»

Charles scoots closer and puts his hand on Erik's shoulder. «High praise! I suppose we'll have to wear each other out a few more times before we can slow down for other adventures.»

«It might be the best course of action,» Erik agrees, radiating faux-innocence. His eyes are wide and round, his lips pursed slightly-- the expression looks good on him, but the real clue comes from Erik's thoughts and feelings, and Charles grins as he recognizes it. Playful. His Erik, being playful with him. He got a taste of that in Niagara Falls, but it's so good to see more of it.

And it thrills Charles to the core to know that he doesn't have to cash in on every single opportunity the moment it presents itself. He can sit side-by-side with Erik and talk to him; he can squeeze Erik's shoulder and enjoy the moment without thinking about what the next one's going to bring. There's no end of this vacation. He's here, with Erik. He's _home_.

«Speaking of courses of action...»

Erik leans forward slightly, his lips parting. «Yes...?»

All right, Charles may not _need_ to take advantage of every opportunity, but that doesn't mean he can resist Erik when he looks like that. He leans forward and meets Erik for that kiss, and when Erik opens up to him, mind and body, and lets Charles lead... that's not a sensation Charles will ever grow tired of.

He does sit back after a moment, though, not pushing this toward the bedroom. Not yet, anyway. «I was really going to ask about what we'll do tomorrow! You have to go back to work, don't you?»

Erik pauses and then nods. "I'd almost forgotten about that. But yes, I'm supposed to go in at noon."

"Noon, all right-- that's plenty of time for breakfast, then," Charles says. "And you're at work how long?"

"Until six."

"Tomorrow's not a Helix day?"

"No, but the day after tomorrow is. I assume you'll want to borrow the car so you can run errands and maybe take care of some moving-in needs-- we should go over to the rental office in the morning and get the landlord to put you on the lease."

Charles beams helplessly at him, almost thunderstruck by the notion, and Erik grins back.

"I didn't expect the lease to be what excited you the most about all that..."

"It's not the lease precisely, it's just--" Charles reaches out and cups Erik's face in both hands, then leans in and kisses him-- he can't help himself. "You're so _certain_. No trial period, no waiting to see if we can bear living together, just... let's put you on the lease."

"You live here now," Erik says, so matter-of-factly. Charles kisses him again. "We had Boston and Mill Point and Niagara Falls to try out living together. There's no need for waiting, not on my account."

"Not on mine, either," Charles quickly reassures him. "I will admit, though... I was trying to be on my best behavior through those trips. It might be a bit different, living together."

Erik snorts. "If Mill Point was your best behavior when you're sick, I'm going to make sure you get your flu shot every year."

"Oi!" Charles prods Erik in the chest. "I did _try_ to get you out of the house."

"Which is going to work here about as well as it did there, so you might as well give up this particular battle now. Besides, it'd be the same thing the other way around. You wouldn't step a foot outside if I were sick and you thought I needed you."

Charles doesn't particularly want to concede the first half of that, but he can't argue with the rest. "Well... no, I suppose not. Unless it was to run out for supplies." He waves a hand at the coffee table. "Frozen pizza, or whatever your comfort food is when you're sick."

Erik's lips twist for a second, and he radiates chagrin. Charles immediately regrets having said anything about the frozen pizza, strange and cardboard-like as it might have been.

"It's all right, I don't mind frozen pizza--"

"No, it's not that. I'm just going to give you the clichéd answer, because what I really want when I'm sick is my mother's recipe for matzoh ball soup."

Oh, dear. "I might have to practice that one a few times when you're _not_ sick," Charles admits. "Unless there's a deli around here that would do the job?"

Erik shakes his head emphatically. "No. And I'm not a fan of store-bought latkes, either. Though we've got months before Hannukah."

"Ah! Well, that's good. I'm sure by then I'll have it figured out," Charles says cheerfully. "Are there other holiday foods that need to be made by hand?" He dearly hopes Erik doesn't have grand fantasies of Charles handling an entire Passover seder by himself, although he'd try...

"The next one is Purim, and store-bought hamentaschen are fine," Erik says. He stops suddenly and grins at Charles, his emotions mirroring Charles's from before, when Erik mentioned putting Charles on the lease.

Charles scoots a little closer and puts his hands on Erik's knees. «What's that about?» he sends.

«Just...» Erik leans in and rests his forehead against Charles's. «It's been a long time since I felt like I really had a reason to celebrate the holidays.» Charles remembers, now that he's thinking back on it-- Pat Wyngarde doing her best to do something for Erik for the last night of Hannukah, and Erik telling Charles, _Holidays were always so much more about family to me than anything, and after my mother died I just didn't-- I just didn't._ And a little later, _Maybe we'll do something next year. Since we're... since now there's... there's us, now._

Family. They're each other's family, now, and Charles feels warmer himself, thinking about that. About what it means to Erik. He'll manage those latkes even if he has to take a dozen cooking classes to do it.

«I'm glad you feel like you have it now,» Charles sends, stroking Erik's hair. «I want that for you.»

«It's not that I've _never_ \-- I mean, I do it every year at Helix, even though we usually only have a few Jewish mutants there, but now... I like that you're asking about these things. That you're planning ahead for them.»

«I live here now,» Charles sends, stroking Erik's hair again, resting his hand just above soul's-home. «I want to share your life. All of it. Even if I'm not converting--»

«I wouldn't expect that--»

«--I know. Still, I'm happy to celebrate with you, and make you matzoh ball soup and latkes, and go to temple with you for our wedding.»

The warmth radiating from Erik ignites when Charles says that, and suddenly Erik's tackling him onto the couch, kissing him firmly, pressing Charles into the couch cushions. Charles squirms under him, tucking Erik's slim hips between his legs and squeezing hard with his thighs, deepening that kiss and drawing Erik even closer.

Erik takes a brief moment to get a breath, and sends, «I do want that. A Jewish wedding, I mean. I'd hoped...» He gives Charles another huge grin. «I'll need to find a regular temple first. Or at least semi-regular. I probably won't go every week.»

«I'll come with you while you're looking,» Charles promises. «I want you to have everything you want, everything you've ever wanted...»

Looking down at him, Erik's practically glowing with it. «I think I do.»

Charles tugs him into another kiss, and they both let themselves get fully distracted with it. After all, it's not as if the frozen pizza will lose anything if they need to heat it up again later.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Question](https://archiveofourown.org/works/543514) by [DangerousCommieSubversive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive)




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